Coming Out, Staying In: Redux
by Katherine Quinn
Summary: Alex and Olivia's "coming out" story...a re-write of a story of the same name...new chapters/total re-write A/O
1. Chapter 1 Alex

**Chapter 1: Alex**

It's been awhile now since we became official; since we first got together. It's only been six short months from the time I pulled you outside into the cold brisk city night and confessed how I felt to you. I kissed you that night, outside the restaurant without hesitation and without regret. It was our first kiss. You made me feel whole for the first time in years.

You took me home with you. We sat together on your couch, sipping wine, making out like teenagers, not going any further than, well, using the crude vernacular, second base. You held me gently against you, almost as if you thought I would break. I slept with you in the same bed. You held me close to you and told me you dreamed about this.

We didn't make love that night, like my body wanted, like my mind was crying for. You made me feel like a girl with an out of control teenage crush. My sustenance became your kisses and your gaze healed my soul in ways I didn't realize it had been broken. You were so tender and seemed only to embrace me more for my faults.

With a shy smile, you handed me some NYPD sweats, and even left me alone to put them on, all the while reassuring me that things could go slowly. You wanted me to know you didn't expect anything. You didn't want anything more than I was ready to give. You didn't want us to start with regrets. You told me you had hoped too much for it to become a reality to let us begin that way. Instead, you laid me in your bed and kissed the back of my neck lightly as you drifted into sleep.

I'm used to sleeping alone and before I met you I couldn't sleep with another person's body twisted with mine. I was hyper aware of every move, every breath. Every place skin touched skin felt oppressive and the heat made me feel a compulsive need to pull away. I usually waited for my bedmate to fall asleep and then pushed myself as far away from them as possible. With you though, it's different. You're soft in the right places, the way you let my head rest against your breast; the way the curve of my arm fits over the curve of your stomach. Your soft breath whispers across my cheek and I feel entirely at peace. I find myself drifting off to sleep, still wrapped around you.

You're the best thing that's happened to me. It's a trite cliché, I know, but I can't do better. I want to tattoo it on my chest for the whole world to see. I don't care who knows that I love you, but that's the very problem, of course.

I care very much who knows it.

If we lived in Utopia, where everything was love and happiness, roses and sunshine, we would never have to question how our relationship would affect our lives. But we don't live in Utopia, and fairy tales don't exist, and my Prince has become my Princess.

We live in a biased and incredibly political world full of hatred and misunderstanding. Together, alone, in your small apartment we can sit for quiet ages alone, kissing, and feeling, and making love to each other without prying eyes and dark judgments. We don't need explanations only for the two of us, alone in the dark. While neither of us speak the words, I feel you grabbing for my hand only after you've glanced to make sure that no one's looking and I feel the emptiness as you let it go when you see another couple walking down the street.

Neither of us has dared touch the topic of how to tell anyone else. It's strange to be so in love and keep it a secret. I'm used to dating men. Not out of lust, or love, but out of expectation. It's strange to feel the way I do about you, because for the first time in a lifetime, I care.

I've sat across from too many dinner tables listening to boring men tell boring stories about their boring lives. I've kissed them, and bedded them without feeling even a tiny sliver of the passion I feel when you smile at me. When I see you, I feel my stomach tighten and my heart beat faster. It's strange that I've shown more affection in public for men I can barely stand, than for you, the woman I hope to spend the rest of my life with.

I find it distinctly foreign to have to sneak around, wondering what people think. We drive separate cars to the same places. I spend lunches with you, and I'm nervous that the knock on my closed office door will be someone who will wonder why we're together. I'm sick of eating with our case files out, not because of our attention to them, but just in case we need a sudden excuse. I wonder who's watching us. I wonder if we look too close. I wonder if it's me or if you really do withdraw from me when I walk into the squad room. Your face, which usually lights with love when we see each other, scans the room looking anywhere but in my eyes. It's strange to wake up in your bed, and then merely four hours later, pretend I don't know you in a crowded hallway.

But even though we hide, I can still see the love burning in you eyes when I can catch them long enough, and I'm sure you see it deep in mine, even when we're pretending to merely be office acquaintances. I feel you walking a little closer to me in the hallways, gently letting yourself rub against me just enough to let me know you're there. You shoot me tiny smiles when no one is looking. Smiles that melt my heart and send heat rocking through my body knowing they are meant only for me. You lean over my shoulder while we're reading a case file together letting your breath hit my neck because you know it drives me…

Ahem.

I'm unsure of how to deal with the complexity of the feelings that run below the surface of my mind. We don't talk about it, but we know that our solitude can't be forever, and I don't want it to be. I want to be able to live in a society where I can kiss you and hold you and have our friends be happy for us and with us without fear.

It scares me what would happen to us if it we were to become office gossip. Would I lose my job? There's no direct rule regarding officers and ADA's dating, but I'm pretty sure that none of the other ADA's that I know have been dating a cop of the same gender on the same squad they are directly involved with. Running up to Branch's office and playing "what if," doesn't seem like the greatest idea, and neither of us wants to be unemployed.

Not to mention what could happen to you. You shrug and say they think you're gay anyway, but if we were out, it would be confirmation. Cops are not notoriously open-minded when it comes to the alternative lifestyle section of the handbook. I don't think I could handle it if something happened to you because you loved me.

You can't face a reality you're not used to living in. I'm newer to this than you are, and from what I've gathered you're not all that experienced in this either. We've both been content to be alone: until now. All this sneaking around: all this hiding from things that I don't even know if it's reasonable to fear. It was exciting, but now I want to stand in the park and scream that I love you, and I'm afraid of what would happen if I did. We talk about telling people, and how we would, and what we would say. I'm not unsure of my feelings for you, but I am unsure of how it will be to love you in a world filled with hate.


	2. Chapter 2 Olivia

**Chapter 2: Olivia**

We wake up in each other's arms for another morning. I'm never quite sure, when I'm opening my eyes, whether or not to believe the feeling of your body pressed into mine. I wonder if it's my imagination finally taking over after all the years of fantasizing about this very moment. Your body is warm and your warmth reminds me again that I'm not alone and that this is real and that I've done something very, very right to get this lucky.

I love the way our bodies fit together perfectly, soft curves complimenting soft curves. Your head against my shoulder, your body relaxed in sleep, plush with mine. Your hand rests on my chest. Your blonde hair pulled back off your face makes you look so peaceful and innocent. I love watching you like this. I love this part of the day.

Warm sun streams in through your windows, creating slats of sunlight against the light white comforter that is thrown over our bodies. There are so many things that I love about you. It's impossible for me to list them all. The way your eyes shine, the way your skin feels, the way you crunch your nose when you're thinking, the way you look in tight jeans and a baby doll t-shirt. And then there are the non-physical things, how smart you are, how you laugh, your sense of humor, the way you can cut someone with your wit and rebuild them in the same breath. I love your apartment; the way it reflects your subtle class. I love your bed; not only because it's yours, but because it's big enough to be comfortable, but not so big that I wake up thinking I'm alone.

I can feel your body starting to stir as I run my fingers lazily over your soft shiny blonde hair. As you wake slowly, I give you a small kiss on your forehead, and you smile at me, with a beautiful sleepy grin.

"Mmm.." you murmur as you turn your head away from the light and snuggle your face against my bare breast which responds to your steaming breath.

I smile. "Good morning, sleepy," I say pushing away blonde strands of hair, almost giggling as you shove your head tighter against me in pure reluctance to face the light.

"Noooo…" you whine at me as I move to rub my fingers lightly down your jaw line.

"Come on, sweetie. I just want one little kiss." I smile at you.

"You're too damn happy in the morning," you grumble at me, picking your head up and kissing me on the cheek, and immediately flopping back down into your original position.

I laugh lightly. I'm only this happy when I'm waking up next to you. I haven't been this happy in a long time. The quiet moments that I get to share with you late at night, cuddling against you, or early in the morning are my favorites. Before we put on our professional facades, and we're two people very much in love instead of an ADA and a sex crimes detective.

"Alex?"

"Hmmm?" you whine.

"Are you still awake?" I ask, still smiling to myself.

"Mmm."

"That wasn't the kind of kiss I wanted."

You finally push yourself up and kiss me gently on my lips and I kiss you back, and within seconds, our kisses change. Now it's less innocent and needier. The light kisses become deeper and our tongues fight. Your hands are struggling to push yourself up, while you crawl into my lap. You let your hands rove over my body, your fingers are slowly trailing down my abdomen, and I'm pulling you into me, slipping my thigh between your legs and pressing into your warm throbbing center. Kisses, and fingers, and moans, while I lose focus on reality and fall into us. Your fingers are teasing me and lightly circling me, and I'm aching for you. My back is arching and you're kissing my neck and sliding lower down my body and it never fails just as it starts to feel this good: the phone is ringing.

I shoved my hand out and pulled for the cord while your tongue is still on my neck and your fingers are sliding against me. I'm not thinking about anything else but telling whoever is on the line that no one cares about changing long distance carriers at eight am on a Sunday morning and that they can just screw off because I am so close.

"Don't worry about it," you whisper as you place a gentle kiss on my inner thigh.

And then I remember. Elliot. Elliot has been desperate, desperate to find out what's making me smile so damn much. He's been calling me every damn hour to find out where I am…I grab the phone, regretting it as you slide your fingers into me.

"This better be really fucking good Elliot…" I more moan than speak.

I didn't think.

I wasn't thinking. Not clearly. I didn't think that this wasn't my apartment, not my phone but that instead, I was in yours, and that there's no reason Elliot would be calling me here…

"Alexandra?" came the voice on the other end.

I stopped as my brain caught on to my behavior. Shit. I was ...and this wasn't...and shit.

"Uhh, sorry" I mumble, "She's...hang on," and I thrust the phone into your hand that only seconds before had been teasing me mercilessly. I hear only your side of the conversation as my whole body blushes with embarrassment. "Sorry," I mouth to you pulling myself out from under you.

"Hello" you say, slightly out of breath. Okay. Slightly isn't the word. You sound like you've been running the Boston Marathon.

"Oh, hi, mom." You say. Like I need to hear the emphasis on the word "mom". Fuck. You pull yourself off of me and into a little ball next to me on the bed, covering yourself from me with your chin on your knee.

"No, you're not interrupting anything important." I sigh, turning over and reaching for the clothes that I threw on the floor the night before. I grab my shirt and pull it over me, and you put your hand up and shake your head, but I can't stop covering myself. Suddenly, I'm too naked and you can see right through me.

"Mom, I'm fine. I just ran up the stairs."

"No, no, that's just a friend from work. I ran down to let her..." I hate being your "friend" from work. I hate it more than I've ever had the courage to tell you.

"Yeah Mom, I do have a buzzer."

"I needed the exercise." You shrug.

"No."

"We're working." Work? Is that what they're calling it these days? I wonder what mom would think if she could see your work in action. I smile wistfully as I sit back down next to you on the bed and lie back, my feet dangling over the edge.

"Yes, I know it's early."

"She just got here." You say, staring at your own toes as though someone has written a riveting novel there. You totally ignore that I'm only inches from you.

"I was on the other."

"Yes mom."

"She thought you were someone else."

"Yeah."

"No she doesn't always swear like that." So much for meeting "mom" I sigh. I pull myself up from the bed, walk across the room and stare out the window letting myself run my fingers through my hair. You usually giggle when I do it. You say it's my nervous habit. Apparently, I did it a lot at first. You always tell me it's cute.

"Yeah Mom, I'll tell her."

"Okay Mom."

"Yes mom, she knows she shouldn't answer the phone like that."

"I'll tell her."

"I'll tell her." You repeat, and I can only hear your mother's admonitions in my head.

"Okay."

"Bye Mom."

You sigh as you hang up the phone and I wonder what's going on in your mind. You take a deep breath and look up at me. You smile, and stand up from the bed. I watch you as you cross the room to where I'm standing. You kiss me chastely. I see mom has interrupted both of our lusty thoughts.

You smile at me, and tell me that it's fine; that everything remains the way it was ten minutes ago. I think your vague reassurances are more for you than for me. You smile at me and a few seconds later you disappear into the bathroom and I can hear the shower running. I sigh.

It's going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3 Alex

**Chapter 3: Alex**

I slide the bathroom door closed behind me as I start the shower, not to close you out, but to close me in. I slip my hand onto the faucet and turn the shower on, letting the water pound against my hand as I find the perfect temperature. I am trying to keep your eyes from haunting my memory. You were looking at me with a look that said something between "You shot my dog" and "Why am I standing naked in front of this large group of people?"

Talking to my mom and watching you dejectedly pull clothing on was breaking my heart. I had put my hand up to stop you, but you didn't see it, and instead you covered your beautiful body. I frowned at my feet and barely listened to my mom complaining about your swearing. I wanted to tell her she's lucky you weren't just screaming my name. I can only imagine her face—the slow horror that would creep into her features as she put the pieces together. Instead, I sighed at her and agreed until she dismissed me and informed me to find better acquaintances. If she only knew…

But of course…

I look at you and you look dejected. I want to explain that it's not you. I want to tell you that it's okay. That everything will be okay. That nothing has changed but I'm nowhere near as calm as I'm trying to play off. So I do what I do best, I withdraw from you to sort things out in my own mind. I slip away, trying to pretend that nothing is wrong, and that it's only time for a morning shower, but I can hear walls crashing around me, and your hurt is stabbing me painfully in the side.

The water feels good, pounding against my back as my mind races through the last few moments. I can feel tears threatening the corners of my eyes and I'm not entirely sure why. I think it's because I can sense you're hurt. Because we were threatened, our happy solitude is threatened, even if only for a moment. But I know our solitude isn't happy by seeing your face. I find it ridiculous to have made it through law school and become so notoriously tough on the most deviant sexual criminals and still fear my mother's reaction to my love life. I don't know why her suspicion of me is so bothersome.

And I know that once again I'm lying to myself. I know. Of course I know. I was raised to be a good girl. Good girls went to good schools, got good grades, had successful careers, wealthy husbands, and had children who they raised to repeat the cycle of wealth and privilege. I did the first three. I worked so hard for so many years, and I shut out the feelings that I wasn't supposed to have. I was concentrating on being so successful that I could tune out my mother stamping her foot in the background to the beat of my "biological clock". I can feel tears of frustration slipping down my cheek, that I can feel both so in love and so afraid at the same time.

I hear you slide the door open and clear your throat to let me know you're in the room. "Sweetie?" you ask, quietly. I quickly rub the back of my hands over my eyes and stick my head out of the curtain. You're still dressed and suddenly I'm the one who feels too naked. You give me a patented half smile. "Can I, umm, get in there with you?"

I nod my head and smile and with fluid movement you strip the shirt and boxers off and slip into the shower behind me. I can feel your strong arms, slippery in the water, around my stomach pulling me into you. You don't say anything. You don't need to. I know. We stand that way, you giving me strength, in the warm spray of the water.

"I love you," you whisper in my ear. I let my head fall back onto your strong shoulder and smile, "I love you too."

You gently spin me around and grab my loofah sponge, filling it with shower gel as you start to massage it in your hand. "How is mom?" you ask with a mischievous look. It lets me know this is over. That though it will always be present, we won't talk about it again.

You press the soapy sponge against my stomach and start to gently apply tiny soapy trails against my abdomen. "She's great."

"Really?" you ask as you slip your soapy hand over my chest.

"Uh huh."

"You were running up the stairs?" You ask and I blush. You shake your head and smile, "I thought you were in better shape than that."

"We'll have to spend more time exercising," I giggle as I spin in your arms.

Looking down at me, you lean your forehead into mine. "How much trouble am I in?"

"You don't want to know." I smile.

Your smile is contagious and as suddenly as the pain started, it ceased. We're happy and together, and entirely alone.


	4. Chapter 4 Elliot

**Chapter 4: Elliot**

Okay, I get that you think I'm just another guy. You think testosterone has made me blind. And so you usually are the one pointing out these things to me, so what? I still know you. I consider you a friend, my best friend even. And yeah, so there are things I can't do with you. I can't talk about freshness with you on the beach, but we've been through a lot, Liv. You and I both know stranger things have happened.

I have three daughters, for Christ's sake and I've seen that look in their eyes way more than I ever wanted. That lost in the stars dreamy happy puppy love look. Even though you're like my sister, and I don't particularly love the idea of thinking about you doing anything naked, you still seem to think that because I have a dick I must be a big ape in a suit when it comes to women. You think I've got no common sense, like you walking around with that shit-eating grin is hard to figure out. One day you'll figure out I'm not a fucking moron.

I know you well enough to know when you're getting laid on a regular basis. Not that you get laid on a regular basis, well, on a regular basis. But you walk in here over a half hour late, with that smile on your face? It could only be worse if you were humming or drawing little hearts on the case files. Oh my God. You're not. You're humming. Jesus, you don't even have coffee in your hand. I think I'm gonna be sick.

It's not that I mind seeing you happy. It's about time, for God's sake. You usually spend your Saturday nights going over case files and if you're lucky catching a few hours sleep. Hell, for you, that's a great time. Even after I've shoved this stuff away and gone home, I know you're here looking for the clue that will lead to justice. However, I also know that some of those files that are stacked on your desk haven't moved in weeks and there's only one thing that can mean. Livvy's got a boyfriend.

You've had them before. I've met some of them. Sometimes I wonder what you're thinking, but hey, what you do on that side is your own damn business. I've just never seen you like this. Not bordering on euphoria. And what's worse you won't say a word. Not a goddamn word. You've never held anything back. You know, we talk. You tell me things. Damn, you tell me things I've never ever wanted to know about you. Stuff about cycles and feminine hygiene products. And this time, I'm not even asking for details. Well, not a lot of them. I just want to know who this guy is. Who is it that can take a normally stable, calm, restrained detective and make them a love sick teenager?

So there you are, sitting across from me, drinking your coffee while you pull up to your desk. "Sorry I'm late," you say to me. I look up at you and though I can see you are trying not to you're smiling like an idiot. I'm just looking at you like you're nuts. When you ask me if there's something wrong, I know this is my chance.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?" I ask.

"What?"

"Why are you late?"

"Traffic?" You shrug at me. I can tell by your eyes that you're challenging me. You and I both know you don't report to me.

"You don't drive here, Liv." I sigh pointing out the obvious to both of us.

"I overslept, okay, Elliot." You shrug.

"That's what, the third time this week?"

You shoot daggers at me with your eyes. "Didn't know you were keeping count," you say sarcastically.

"God Liv, I care about you okay? Where've you been sleeping?"

"What are you talking about?" You say with panic in your eyes.

"I didn't know you weren't, but that look was priceless."

"That's not any of your business," you grumble.

"You're walking around like a love sick puppy."

"Elliot. Shut up."

"I just want to know when we get to meet him?" You look down and for a second, your smile fades.

"What are you talking about?"

"Okay, let's review the facts. You just walked in here at eight thirty am without caffeine and you're still smiling. At night, you run out of here like you're on fire to go, of all places, to your rat hole apartment. And you've just established that's not where you're running off to."

"Hey," you start, but I want some answers here, and I'm on a roll.

"You're obviously seeing someone."

"It's not any of your business," you say, as you turn to a stack of files and randomly open one.

"Come on Liv. What's the big deal?"

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Fine." I grumble, slamming my pen to the desk.

I see you look at me and appraise me with your eyes. I can tell you're conflicted and I do my best to look pathetic. I wonder if it's working. Finally you sigh. "El," you say, "You're right, okay. I just want to keep this quiet for awhile. You know, between me and them."

I'm rolling my eyes at you and about to argue when I hear it, the click-clack sound that is unmistakably our lovely blonde ADA. Those damn heels, letting us know that she is slumming it over here on the SVU side. She usually shows up here to tell us we fucked something up.

You look over my shoulder and smile at her, which as far as I'm concerned is pure butt kissing because I'm pretty sure you don't like her anymore than I do. I mean, she's okay, but she's hard to read. She can be fiery as hell or the village ice princess. She may be a goddamn good lawyer but sometimes the woman can just be a bitch. I've watched you fight with her over warrants—the two of you can be positively rabid with each other. It's a wonder that one of you hasn't killed the other. No, you may pretend but you're not a fan.

I look at Alex, and smile a wry smile. "Hey, maybe you can help?" I ask her and her eye brow arches at me. "Trying to get Olivia to tell us who her new boyfriend is. You're a lawyer, you get it out of her."

Alex looks at you with a bemused look and then at me with a quizzical smile. Munch appears, out of nowhere. He's beside me and he's asking you all the same questions that I have. You don't say anything, but demurely promise to keep things quiet until it's more serious. Alex practically fawns over you trying to pull out details.

Alex smiles at you and then at us, "Girl talk, fellas." She winks at me while you stand up and grab a file off your desk and follow her into an interrogation room.

"Let us know what you find out!" Munch calls after you.

"Attorney client privilege," she yells back.

Oh, Liv, I'm a detective and now I want to know. I want to know so badly I can taste it. And god damn it, I'm going to find out.


	5. Chapter 5 Olivia

**Chapter 5: Olivia**

You know, El, you just never stop with me, I swear to God. And how can I be mad at you really? I mean, come on, you have no idea that you're telling my girlfriend to interrogate me about my boyfriend. I just don't get why you have such an obsession with my dating habits. I mean, it's not like you're involved in it, or ever will be, or even wanted to for those ten minutes where both of us thought of what it could be like if we had decided to jump headlong into an affair.

You're my partner investigating sex crimes, not my sex life. I guess in a round about way, I appreciate that you love me enough to care. And if I were dating a man, I probably would love to gloat about how in love I was and how hot our sex life was and tell you all the details. But it's not like that this time, and I can't even tell you that.

None of this is easy. It's not as simple as smiling at you and correcting your oblivious gender confusion. Saying, "Now, now, I'm currently dating a woman. Oh, and I think you do actually know her. She works in the DA's office. Name's Cabot. And you know how you and the guys wonder if her underwear's cotton flowers or black lace? It's all lace, baby."

And while I'm handing out that blame, I'm pissed at you too, Alex, because you're all smiles and giggling at this, asking me stupid questions about his name and what he does. Part of me wants call you out just to see you pale and nearly pass out but then for you to realize that the whole world didn't explode and we were all still there and everything was still okay. But I can't and I know you'd find that threatening, so I take the ribbing and promise in my mind to get you back for it later.

Hopefully, you can pay me back in sexual favors.

When you get tired of teasing me mercilessly you smile at the guys and tell me that you have to ask me some questions about a case. You invite me to step into an interview room. I know you well enough to know you're enjoying this a little too much. You use that sexy as hell walk that makes my throat go dry. I follow you like a puppy, pointing out an empty room and following you inside.

Before the door closes, I pull the curtains over the one way glass to close out any prying eyes.

"Subtle," you smile.

I feel myself blush. Knowing you know I was looking. It's not like I intend to strip you down and do you on the table, but if my hand rubs against yours, purely by accident, I don't want you to jump fearing that we'll be exposed. I hate feeling you jump when we touch in public.

"What?" I ask you, leaning in. "I thought you wanted to hear about my new love."

"Do I know them?" You ask.

"I think so," I do, leaning in and kissing you gently.

You pull back quickly and I know that was all I was going to get from you. I understand while I don't. This is routine for us. I know what you are going to say. I know that you love me. I know that you're teasing. However, I can't imagine what harm would come from telling Elliot that it is you that makes me smile. He would stop riding my ass all the time. And hey, it would be nice to have a shoulder to lean on when you're in one of your moods. I'd have someone I can talk to about us, and how intense my feelings for you are, and about how scary it is for me to feel this need for you.

Even though we both know that your visit is more social than work related, you're sitting at the table and pulling out files. We both know that if someone barges in here with a perp and we're simply gazing into each other's eyes, we'll be awkwardly explaining for the next week or so. You smile at me, with a tired sad grin, and tell me that you're having a bad day. You tell me about court this morning, and that you missed me, and that you wanted to stop by because seeing my face might make your day more bearable.

I want to hold you close to me and stroke your hair and kiss your neck. I want to tell you that I love you and I don't ever want you to have a bad day as long as we both live. Instead, I ask you if you want to come to my place after work. I don't know why I ask anymore. I can't remember the last time we didn't spend the night together. It's only a matter of whose place we end up in.

I tell you I'll cook, which means that I'll have to blow out of here early yet again to run to the bodega on the corner and grab some actual food that doesn't include the instructions "microwave on high for five minutes." Your eyes light up and you smile. Before I know it I'm promising I'll take care of you tonight. I'm telling you that I love you, and that I am glad you stopped by since I know these visits are intentionally short.

You look happier, and we agree that you'll call me on my cell when you're about an hour from done so I can run home and get everything all set. I follow you out, and pat your ass as you walk by me too closely. You jump and look over your shoulder giving me an evil grin. "You'll pay for that," you whisper, as you slip out the door, down the hallway, and out of sight.

God, I only hope you truly mean it.


	6. Chapter 6 Elliot

**Chapter 6: Elliot**

If you look at your watch one more time, I think I'm going to scream. I know you think you're slick, but guess what…you're not. I may not be your boyfriend, but give me some respect, at least pretend that working with me isn't akin to beating yourself with a tire iron. You're tapping your pencil, shaking your leg, and generally, you look like you've drank a whole pot of coffee and taken a caffeine pill chaser. You used to live for this.

But now?

It's like sitting here with me, doing what we used to do best, is killing you. It's not that I'm saying that you don't dive into your work, you do, but now, you're taking weekends off. You want to get out of here on time. And for someone who you won't even tell me about. I'm usually the one who's on the edge knowing that I should go home. I see you sigh as you look at the stuff we've yet to accomplish and I can't take it anymore.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be?" I ask impatiently.

You look at me like a deer caught in headlights. "No."

"Then can you stop acting like you have dynamite in your ass?"

You give me a look but your cell phone picks that exact second to ring. Staring at me, you flip the phone open. "Benson," you say in a voice that lets me know you're pissed at me, but immediately your expression softens and your voice turns all breathy as you say, "Oh, hi."

You look at me suspiciously as you pull your chair back from your desk. I sigh to myself, but the mysterious caller has piqued my own curiosity. You're telling them that you just have to stop by the store, real quick, so that you can start cooking. You cook? Are you serious? What else don't I know about you? Do you juggle? Do magic? I could swear that you'd never met a takeout container you couldn't love, and all this time you could…god damn.

But wait. You're cooking? Stopping by the…I know where that place you're talking about is. Right on the corner near… Hmmm. Cooking sounds like a night in. Night in, huh?

The mystery of whom you're dating is far more intriguing than anything else in my life. I wish you would just tell me. I think things will be better between us with this whole thing out in the open. We can just go back to being…normal again. No more secrets. No more hiding.

You come back to your desk and sigh again, staring longingly at the pile in front of you. "Look Liv, why don't you just go? I mean I can finish up what's here."

"Are you serious?" You ask.

"Yeah, sure, go ahead." I smile.

You look at me like I've let you loose in a candy store. You just keep saying, "thank you, thank you, thank you," as you shove things into the bag you've started carrying. I can tell you aren't paying any attention to what you're doing as you frantically slap the bag closed and grab for your coat. Then you prove to me that you've actually gone insane. You kiss my cheek as you run for the door, screaming a final, "I owe you big, El," over your shoulder.

"See ya," I smile to myself. I hear Fin tell you to hit a home run for him. You flip him off as you smile at me again and yell thank you as you bolt for the door. Shaking my head I think back wondering when the last time was I felt the way you do right now, so excited and happy to be in love. It'd been a god damn long time. Damn, it's been a long time since… Maybe I could pick up some flowers on the way home and…

I see Cragen round the corner and I put my head down into my paperwork, pretending that I felt this was an important and useful part of my time. "You two better have that Iliano file on my desk first thing. Cabot has called over here twice and she is not going to be happy if it's not waiting for her bright and early." He says to me without even stopping, glaring at your empty chair and then back at me.

I nod, and sigh. That's your case.

Wait.

Shit.

I stand up and go over to your desk. I search down the stacked pile on your desk and realize that you must have taken it. God damn it Liv. I know that the files that went home in that bag of yours are going to come back tomorrow the same way. They have every night for the last few months. I don't know why you bother to carry them back and forth. I look at my phone and think about calling you. You're probably almost home now. I don't really want to ruin your whole night.

Maybe I could just, stop by. Pick it up, you know? I'll get it done for you, both of us will be out of hot water, and maybe I'll get the added bonus of meeting this new friend of yours?


	7. Chapter 7 Alex

**Chapter 7: Alex**

I call you for what seems like the fifth time to let you know that I'll be leaving in a little less than an hour. The sound of your voice calms me and allows me to focus. You tell me to take my time and that you'll be waiting. Why don't you know that if I had my way, I would already be with you and would have left all this work behind?

Your voice reassures me that I'm doing the right thing. You're obviously excited; it shows in your voice, which is higher and faster. It's adorable when you get like that. It's so rare you let anyone see that side of you, but more and more, you're showing it to me.

You keep telling me that you're already at home creating your masterpiece. Elliott, bless him, apparently took pity on you and your new "boyfriend" and let you sneak out well before you normally manage to pull yourself out of the bullpen. You ran home to make things special for me. You make me smile in spite of myself.

I hang up the phone and survey the scene in front of me. Every time I look at my desk, strewn with paperwork, I can feel my temples beginning to throb. It never ends: this endless march of justice. For every case that makes it past my desk, at least two don't. Whether I can actually bring them to trial or not, the work that goes into even the most open and shut case seems, at times, entirely overwhelming. Unfortunately justice starts somewhere in the disarray that is spread in front of me: motions to respond to lie on top of research on case law that I haven't looked at, which is stacked on information for trials that I still have to prepare for.

I pray for time to go by quickly and use all my willpower to get to work so I can finally finish some of the things that should have been done yesterday. I'm surprised that time does, indeed, go quickly and before I know it my desk looks respectable and the clock is telling me that it's a reasonable time to walk out of this office.

It's time to go home to you. I throw a pile of files into my briefcase, knowing full well that is where they will stay until I take them out tomorrow morning when I return here. I grab my jacket from the back of my chair and bound out the door, walking as fast as I can and still be viewed as respectable. I can never get to you fast enough. Even when it seems that time is flying by, getting to you is always the slowest part of my day.

Traffic is definitely on my side tonight, and soon, I'm standing in front of your building on a cool Manhattan night. I look up and see the lights in the window, the flickering of candles and your silhouette against the light. My heart beats faster as I watch you for a second framed against the warm glowing candlelight. I can't wait to be in your arms behind closed doors, even if they remain locked to the world.

I let myself in your front door, slipping my key into the lock. You gave me the keys to your place a while ago, and while I've become accustomed to using them, it always seems slightly strange to me. At times, you're so private. Your life and mine are so secluded from the lives around us. The key made me uncomfortable, and I refused to use it for so long, but you insisted that I share your space like you share mine: freely.

That and after a while you refused to buzz me in, telling me if I wanted you bad enough, I'd resolve my own emotional crisis. It took approximately 60 seconds before I was in your arms.

Bounding up the stairs, I'm slightly out of breath as I reach the third floor. I scold myself for skipping my workout this morning, but if I'm lucky, I can get one with you as my personal trainer tonight, and in the morning, and…

Again taking advantage of my key, I start to open your door, knocking gently as I turn the key slowly. I hear you inside, banging around in the kitchen.

"Hey, Liv, I'm here" I call out to you gently, not wanting to scare you. In your typical style, music is blaring from the kitchen at top volume and after a minute of no response, I call out to you again louder. This time, I hear you stop banging around.

In a second, I see you stick your head out from the kitchen door. Your eyes light up and you smile when you see me. You make me feel beautiful.

You close the distance between us in seconds, and you kiss me gently on the lips, and I feel the problems of the world slamming shut behind me like the cold steel of prison bars. I'm here with you, and we're both safe. In the quiet solitude of your apartment our love is safe and sacred.

"So," I ask, still wrapped in your arms, "What are you making me?"

"Ah, that's for you to see for yourself." You kiss me gently again wrapping my arms around your strong shoulders and leading me into your small kitchen.

You've obviously gone insane; this time, it's too much. Candles line the walls, flickering gently against the darkness. They heat the air and fill the room with the scent of warm apples and cinnamon. The small kitchen table is covered with a deep maroon cloth with long stem glasses filled with what I can only guess is my favorite white wine. From behind you, you grab a bouquet of a dozen blood red roses, which you smile as you hand me.

"Why'd you?" I start to ask you.

"Because I love you. And there's no harm in reminding you."

I can feel myself starting to blush as you lavish attention onto me. A good part of me wants to cry because I don't exactly know what I've done to deserve your sweetness. You seem to sense that insecure part of me. Before I can vocalize any of what's going on in my head, you're telling me about how much I mean to you and how happy I've made you, and I can feel my heart racing.

"I don't deserve you," I smile as I lean into you giving you a kiss. You wrap your arms around me and hold me close to you. Our eyes catch each other.

I kiss you and you kiss me back passionately. You push me back against the wall as our tongues fight each other. Your hands are on me running up my body; pulling open buttons and unhooking my bra; gently sliding thumbs over my hardening nipples. You pull my skirt up my hips and again I feel that incredible passion. I hear my brain screaming censor while my body yells now.

You moan into my neck for a moment, giving me the space to unbutton your jeans. The jeans that fit you perfectly in all the right…

God.

My fingers are slipping between your legs as I feel your wetness on my hand.

"Do you see what you do to me?" You whisper. I kiss your neck, behind your ears where you're so sensitive. You moan and I can feel you melt against me, and for a minute give in.

You kiss me hard and I feel you grabbing my wrists as you slide them over my head and hold them with one hand while the other runs up the back of my thigh. And then suddenly in the heady heat of the moment, I hear it, a man's voice interrupting our deep kisses:

"Jesus Christ, Liv, Tell me you're giving her mouth to mouth, and this isn't what it looks like!"


	8. Chapter 8 Elliot

**Chapter 8: Elliot**

Okay, yeah, so in retrospect perhaps I shouldn't have just let myself into your apartment when you didn't come to the door. But I knocked.

Loudly.

More than once.

I swear I did.

I knew you were here, I could see the lights from the street, and yeah, so what if I thought I might catch a glimpse of your new lover? There was no way in hell I expected to walk in here and find you French kissing a woman. And not just any woman!

And before you go accusing me of things, I had a good reason, to come by here anyway, because you had that god damn file. If you weren't walking around with your head up your ass none of this would have happened. You know as well as I do that I need to finish the reports that are due in the morning.

If you had just answered the door. God damn it, Liv. You listen to that damn radio so damn loud, it's no wonder you didn't hear me. I've told you more than once how dangerous that is. You don't listen to me. If you had only heard me knock. But it's so loud in here you wouldn't have heard a bomb go off. Not to mention that you were, apparently, otherwise engaged.

But even if you had heard me, I stepped right into the middle of hell. So maybe I knew from the street there was something going on in here. I could see the flickering candlelight, and well, not to piss you off but you're not normally that kind of girl.

When I slipped in the door and I could smell something sweet baking in the air, and I can see right into your kitchen table, which is obviously set for two. There are candles everywhere. This looks like a goddamn telephone company commercial.

Really, I was just trying to be nice, by stopping by here, trying to save your night. I was trying to let you know that I could accept anything. I wanted to end the tension. I wanted to show you that I could be reasonable. You know, that I could accept anything you could throw at me. I'm still trying to decide if this all falls into that category. I came in here, thinking this was my big chance to let you know that I was going to be there for you, and give you support. Even if I found Captain Cragen in here with you, I was going to smile and congratulate the two of you just like the gentleman I'm supposed to be.

But a woman? And not just any woman, either, Liv, but her royal majesty Alex Cabot? The ice princess Alex Cabot? Mega-bitch-sucks-out-men's-balls-and-eats-them-for- breakfast Alex Cabot? Jesus Christ, you sure know how to pick them. I feel like I'm on TV, but then I remember that I'm not an alcoholic and you're not a bulimic cheerleader and this isn't some kind of sick after school special. This is real life.

I thought I was ready for all the possibilities, but I couldn't be more surprised if I found you in here with a gorilla dressed in a tuxedo. I turn the corner and I see you first, the back of your head. And then, I see a leg, wrapped around your waist with heels still attached to a dangling foot. Wait, heels?

It takes me a minute to process. I can't figure out how your leg is in that position if you're facing the wall and then I realize both of your feet are firmly planted on the floor. My eyes sweet up and I see the long blonde hair and the suit. I feel my eyes popping out.

You've got your hands all over her, holding her hands over her head with one hand while your other is moving up her skirt. Your pants are undone and she's moaning. I look around I can see someone's bra on the counter. Both of you, pressed against each other, against a wall.

Seeing you look at each other, there's no mistake that this is the person who makes you blush that bright red color. At the same time, I'm pretty sure that this is the kind of thing that only happens in Penthouse letters. I blink my eyes, and in fact, you're still there, standing in front of me, sucking her face like you need her to breathe. My arousal embarrasses me, because it's you, and because it's her, but I'm a red blooded American male and you're not bad looking, and the ice princess apparently does melt when it's your fingers running over her creamy white skin.

And then it hits me like a ton of brinks. Damn it. I get it now, why you didn't tell me and I'm hurt as hell that you thought I was going to act like a bigot about this whole thing. This isn't about bigotry. This is about you and me and what I know to be true. You hear me ask if you're giving her rescue breathing, because this doesn't look good.

You freeze and whip around at me, defensive immediately. Both of you are looking at me with guilty deer-in-headlights expressions. As soon as you get some sense, you pull your shirt closed. Cabot pulls her skirt down quickly, her face scared. I see her step back, almost trying to hide behind you, tears streaming down her face. You're yelling right back at me. You start with some lame "it's not what it looks like" line.

I come right back at you with my teeth exposed. "Really Liv? I walk in here and you're sucking her face and your hand is in her…"

"Elliot," you warn me with anger flashing in your eyes.

"When I put it all together," I continue unafraid of the fire, "It looks like you're fucking the ADA." I scream back at you, giving her an icy glare. "Is my summation correct Counselor?" I ask, glaring at Alex.

I have no right to be this angry. You must feel her pressing against you and I feel bad seeing Alex's eyes start to tear and spill over. You take a deep breath and even though you calm your tone, your eyes are breathing fire.

"Don't talk to her like that." You say with a controlled voice that only tells me how close you are to losing control. I want you to lose control. I want you to feel like I feel.

"Are you fucking serious Olivia? She's a big girl." I take a step forward and your muscles go tense. I realize for the first time that you would defend her against me. You would choose her.

"Your problem is with me." You know me to damn well. "Go sit down." You demand. "We need to talk."

No shit.


	9. Chapter 9 Olivia

**Chapter 9: Olivia**

Okay, so I was going to tell you about this eventually. This isn't exactly what I had in mind. In my wildest dreams, I didn't expect you to storm in here like Godzilla attacking a small Japanese town.

Maybe when this all started a few months ago, I should have sat you down and just said it. I've wanted to so many times, alone with you, driving to a crime scene or sitting across from each other in an empty squad room. But you see, now, my worst nightmare has happened. You acted like an ass. If I had just done this myself... If you had done this to me, I would have handled it, but you showed your anger to her, and I can't let you do that.

This isn't what I wanted, or even how I imagined it. Screaming and fighting and tears on the horizon, and the dinner I had prepared waiting patiently in the oven.

Your angry reaction makes my soul reverberate with the shame that I've secretly felt in hiding all this from you. It's not shame for loving her, or being with her, but shame from feeling that I have to hide for all these stupid reasons. I know you're hurt; I know you're angry; I know that you feel betrayed. But I know you well enough to know that under that homophobic cop shit that you like to pull, you're not truly like that. I've seen your compassion. Now I wish that you would show it to me.

Anger, confusion, betrayal. It's written all over your face which I can read like a book. While I stand you down, both of us acting like angry dogs, I can feel the softness of Alex's hands on my waist and her chin as she presses herself into my shoulder. She's relying on me to keep her safe from you. She's sheltering herself behind me and away from your angry eyes. She doesn't know you like I do.

She's scared of your loudness and of how you'll react and what this will do to us. Protectively, I hold her behind me anyway, because I can sense her fear. I'll keep her safe even if it means that you shoot me in the head right here. Even if I have to shoot you.

You forget that I'm just like you, and I can fight just as hard, and when I ask why the hell you're standing in my kitchen you tell me that I have some file you need for Alex. Fuck the file. Alex is right here.

You act like I'm some kind of idiot. I work with Munch too. I can smell a conspiracy ten miles away. This is some kind of set up. You knew god damn well that I was out of the office at running pace, and showing up here to see what you can see, no matter what you say your excuse is, it is nothing more than a cheap chance to find out who is sharing my bed. Well, now you know and you deserve all the shock and hurt you feel right now.

"Elliot," I say, as calmly as I can muster considering the red burning that is glowing behind my eyes, "go sit down. We'll be right there, okay?" You look at me with challenge in your eyes, but you acquiesce without further incident and retreat into the living room, stamping your feet like an angry child all the way down the hallway.

I turn around and face the beautiful blonde cowering behind me. "You okay?" I ask, but I can see the tears already streaming down your face. I hold you close to me and stroke your hair, letting you cry quietly on my shoulder. "It's okay," I say into your ear, "he's just hurt. He loves me, sweetie, just like his sister. It'll be okay." You fake a smile and pull your hands from around me, and cross them over your chest. I keep one arm wrapped around your waist as I gently push tears from the corners of your eyes, slipping your blonde hair behind your ears, and letting my forehead rest against yours. "I'm going to go talk to him, okay? Just stay here. I'll come get you in a minute, okay? I love you, sweetheart." You try to smile at me again and nod slowly, wiping your eyes with the backs of your sleeves.

I start my procession down the hall, looking over my shoulder one last time before I face the firing squad; I smile at you one more time, trying to be reassuring. You sit at the table and blow out the flickering candle in front of you. I sigh as I turn the corner to find Elliot pacing…


	10. Chapter 10 Alex

**Chapter 10: Alex**

I wish you hadn't left me in here all alone. This room, still decorated for what should have been our night of passion, feels dirty. I've blown out the candles and pulled myself into one of your hardback kitchen chairs. My hand is shaking as I reach for the wine glass sitting on the table and down it in one swallow. So much for being a connoisseur.

I sigh as I realize this isn't going to do it for me right now. Nice wine is for romantic dinners, but I need something to really calm my shattered nerves. Now's when it comes in handy that I know you well, and that I know about your small hidden stash over your oven. Your penchant for hard liquor becomes an asset.

You think I don't know about it, but I've seen you after a hard day slip in here. I pull myself up on the edge of the counter and let my hand search above your stove when my fingers clasp around the neck of the bottle. I pull out the cheap vodka, and I frown at the bottle: sounds delightful. I grit my teeth and do what I imagine you do with this swill; take a huge swallow from the head of the bottle.

I look at the swirling contents and gasp as I feel my throat burn. I am about to take another swig to drown out the buzzing of the world, but I remember you and Elliot in the next room and being blitzed out of my mind isn't going to help any of us. I want to go back twenty minutes, to our happiness, and smiles, and long luxurious kisses. Only this time, I want to double lock the door. I stare at the wall I had been pressed into and feel my eyes tear up again.

For a little while, after you walked down the hall, I could hear the two of you yelling at each other. He was screaming and asking you if you're a dyke and what I did to you. You were screaming right back though, just as fiery, defending my honor. You were telling him he was being a bigot and that you saw him being more compassionate towards perps than he was being towards you right now. I could hear the tears in your voice, and believe it or not, the tears in his.

My headache from work is storming back with a vengeance as my mind is screaming that these are my insecurities that are causing you this pain. If I had let you tell him, if we had been more careful, if I had stayed away from you in the first place, none of us would be here now, on the edge dangling dangerously.

I can't ignore how happy you make me. I want to leave now and drive out of New York with you. We could go somewhere that there are no expectations of what we should be, and there's no one screaming. We can just be in love without this pain.

Your screaming has subsided, and I can hear you two gently talking. I stick my head around the corner of the kitchen, knowing that until you come for me, I will never have the needed fortitude to walk the six short steps into the living room where I can hear you debating the merits of our case against Elliott's preconceived notions of who and what we are. I can hear my name and your soothing voice. It calms my center to know that you're here, and you're my protector.

I sit back down at the kitchen table and sigh letting my finger tip slip around the top of the glass while I wait for you to want me back. It feels like forever, before I see your tear stained face appear from around the corner. You beckon to me and I follow you. I pace a step behind you, fearing the firing squad waiting in front of me.


	11. Chapter 11 Olivia

**Chapter 11: Olivia**

I had no idea it was going to happen like this. I knew this was going to be hard, telling you about my...extracurricular activities. Not that they are any of your business. Two people I love, in opposite ends of what is not the world's biggest apartment, all of them upset and me in the middle. I'm the tie that binds them; causing both of them pain. Both of them, I love dearly, albeit in entirely different ways, but I can't for the life of me think of how it will be if I'm forced to chose only one of you. I'm relying on Elliot's compassion, but I'm ready to throw him the hell out if he can't accept this. I guess that's because I know he can. He may not want to, but wanting to and being able to are very different things.

It's my defining moment right now. How I handle this will shape and form the rest of my life--the rest of all of our lives in some regards. What was once a partnership built on trust and caring with me and El can be totally undone. What Alex and I have is so new and so good, I don't want to lose her. The tears streaming down her face scare me, because I know how easy it is to frighten her right now. Even though I'm not necessarily an experienced hand at this stuff, she's far shyer than I ever have been when it comes to us.

I take a deep breath pausing as I turn the corner to find you standing in my small living room pacing like a caged tiger. I look at you hesitantly and wonder what you'll say to me first, and I'm hoping that we can get by all the bullshit and get to the meat of this now, but you're determined to not let this be easy for me.

Just your posture tells me this is going to be a long haul. Your shoulders are hunched aggressively, and your eyes are alive with light. You run your hand over your head, asking me what the hell I think I'm doing. I can't help but shrug and ask you what you mean. I'm assuming you're talking about the little show you saw in the kitchen, but you know what they say about assuming things. You don't seem to think that my inaccurate memory is funny, though, and you're yelling back that you think I know damn well what you're referring too, as you point your fingers in a lame gesture towards the kitchen and the "scene of the crime."

But this wasn't a crime. I tell you that what I do behind closed doors is really my own damn business as is who I do it with. For reasons I fully understand, that particular comment seems to drive you right over the edge of sanity.

"Do you know what you were doing in there?" He demands.

"Uh, yeah." I say, looking at him. He looks at me like I should continue to explain, as though my seeming awareness isn't quite enough. "I was kissing someone I love very much." I say, deciding to leave out the other things I was doing to her.

He looks at me expectantly as though he has just proven the theory of gravity and as though my words should have proved to me exactly what his problem is. "That's not what you were doing." He sighs, pacing faster.

"I love her Elliot." I shrug.

"How long?" You demand.

"Six months." I say.

"You've been fucking her for six months?"

"Elliot." I warn you, as clearly as I can. "I'm not just fucking her, El. This is for real."

"Jesus Christ, Liv," you mumble at me. "Are you telling me after all this time you're gonna just turn gay? She can't be that great in bed." I feel a warm blush crawl across my cheeks with an involuntary smile playing on my lips and I would love nothing more than to tell you how wrong you are, but this isn't the time. Instead you stare at me with a concerted frown, "Take that god damn smile off you face," you menace at me.

"I didn't turn gay for her, Elliot. I'd, I'd been with other women." I sigh, ignoring your threat.

"You never told me." You quickly accuse.

"You never asked." I point out and I can see your file through your memory thinking about whether or not that's really true.

You're just lashing out at me now and I can feel my own anger rising as you continue to act like an ass. You cross the line when you start verbally attacking Alex-you act like I'm incapable of making adult choices. Like she's Darth Vader bringing me over to the dark side.

I stop trying to be calm with you. I stop trying to explain. Instead, I show you the same temper you show me. I rip into you, screaming at you, getting right back into your face. I don't fucking care if this isn't solving anything, you're out of line.

"You don't get it, El," I move closer to his chest.

"No, I don't."

"I love her, and I'm going to be with her, and you're going to have to accept that."

"But she's such a…bitch." You spat.

"Don't you fucking talk about her like that." I say, my muscles clenching. I'd love nothing more than to punch you in the face. I take a deep breath but I see you tense too.

"What, you want to fight me?" he asks sardonically, looking at my tightening fists.

"No, but I will."

"You'd fight me over that…that…cun…" Before you can finish the word, I swing at you. You throw up your elbow and block my first and before I can swing on you again you grab my wrist. You hold my fist between us as you stare at it, the seriousness of my words finally hitting home for you. I see your face change, watch as the anger fizzles out of you. I watch sadness crawl into your features and I stop struggling against your grasp.

You drop my hand and turn your back to me and put your hand on the door and I realize that you're really going to walk out of here like this. I think for a moment, in my angry haze, that it's fine with me. I don't give a shit right now if I ever see you again. Or at least that's what I tell myself. I'm trying to believe it.

But there's a nagging part of me that can't just let you walk out of here, not like this. If you leave here this angry, you might do something that I'll regret. And damn it, El, I really do care about you. I care about what you feel and I want more than anything in the world for you to accept this. I have to stop you. I reach out to you, putting my hand on your shoulder.

"Please don't go."


	12. Chapter 12 Elliot

**Chapter 12: Elliot**

You're willing to fight me over her? Seriously? You're god damn lucky I don't hit girls. You want me out. Fine. I'll get out. I'll walk out of here right now and never come back. You want to be like this, well, fine, fuck you too. Next week, when you all figure out how insane this all is, and what you've lost you'll be back.

And, no, this is not mature. And fuck you for pointing that out. This isn't the first time you've told me to get the fuck out, and it probably won't be the last.

I want to believe better of myself that this doesn't bother me to my core, but guess what Liv, it does. It bothers me, okay? It's not right. It's just not right.

I'm here, staring at you, teeth bared like a rabid animal and why? Because you're making a piss poor choice? Because you've found a fuck buddy that finally goes over the top? I told you after Cassidy not to fuck your co-workers. I thought you had finally learned a lesson.

I can vaguely hear you yelling under my yelling. You're screaming that you love her, and that you want to spend your life with her, and that you don't care if I like it or not. There's something about the way you're talking about this-well, yelling about it. The passion that's in your eyes, the snakes of tears streaming down your face. Alexandra Cabot has firmly lodged herself in your heart.

Damn, this is serious for you. This isn't another one of your one- night stand relationships; the kind that last three weeks and then die. I don't think you've noticed that I've stopped screaming back at you-your words hitting me-- because you're still up in my face. You're angry to the point of blindness.

You swing at me, I catch your hand. I know you meant for me to grab it. If you hadn't, I would have a broken nose and a hell of a black eye. I stare at your fist between us. What it means. We're over. You're hers now.

I turn to leave.

I think I know that if I walk out this door right now, it will be the last time I am here. You'll choose her over me.

I can feel my eyes tearing up, and I have to remind myself over and over that I started this mess, and I will not cry. I will not cry. I will get out of here and out of your life.

My fingers wrap around the cold metal of the door, and I can remember what it was like only ten minutes ago standing on the other side walking in thinking I would finally meet your mystery date so I could tease you mercilessly till you dumped this one like you had so many others. I turn the knob, taking a deep breath as the door separates from the frame giving me a clear view of the hallway.

Your hand is on my shoulder. I hear you whisper.

"Please don't go."

Thank God.


	13. Chapter 13 Alex

**Chapter 13: Alex**

When you turn the corner, I can see the look in your eyes and I can feel my heart breaking into pieces. You're uncharacteristically disheveled for what is turning out to be one of the worst nights in recent memory for either of us. Even after 12 hours in the squad room, you're always put together. But now, your shirt's un-tucked from where I pulled on it earlier, a reminder of where our night had been headed. Your hair is wild. You have a habit of running your fingers through it when you're stressed and the lines from where your fingers have treaded their path repeatedly are notable. I see the tears; clear wet lines snaking down your face. I jump off the hard backed chair that has been my sanctuary while you were on the front lines. I need to be near you.

I pull you close to me and wrap my arms around your waist. I feel your heat, and the heady scent of you. With you here with me, I feel stronger. Safer. I hold your head to my shoulder, and I can feel your body shaking with tears. Slowly, I wipe them off your cheeks, and I see new trails created almost immediately.

Now it's my turn to be angry as hell. Just who the hell does he think he is? He stormed in here like a trooper to find us. He screams at us, he messed with our heads, and now, he's crossed the line. He has no right to make you cry. He has no right to judge us. This whole thing just brims with injustice. He has no right, and it's just not fair. Nothing's ever fair.

I know now it's time for me to give you my strength. I rub your shoulders which are laced with tension. You close your eyes and hold me close. You listen to me whisper to you that I love you. I tell you how strong you are and how safe you make me feel. I see you rebuilding under my touch, my caresses bringing back some of your passion. I look at you and slowly fix your shirt. You smile at me, a smile mixed with the tear stains on your cheeks.

He wants to talk to us, you whisper to me, your head still heavy on my shoulder. You tell me he asked for you to get me. I look at you quizzically, looking for either his acceptance or denial written in your eyes. You're face is blank, which is strange. I'm used to reading you like an open book. This night is hell. Too bad we don't have a flavored coffee to celebrate this moment in our lives.

You lace your fingers in mine, but not before you squeeze me tight into you one final time. I close my eyes as we tighten our arms around each other and I hear you whispering that you're sorry that all this happened. The words cause your body to rack with quiet sobs, and I pull your head tight to me. You tell me that you love me with all your heart and that you don't want me to be afraid. My heart breaks a little more. I hadn't thought that was possible. I feel horrible that you feel like you have to apologize to me. I whisper to you that I love you more than life itself and that we'll get through this. We're a team, you and I. We're stronger than the entire world's prejudice, and as long as we stand together, we'll be fine. And for the first time, I'm starting to believe it.

I heard you defend me. I heard the love in your voice, the hurt you felt as he berated you for loving me. I heard you tell him to get out. You've risked more for me in the last hour than anyone else I can think of in my whole life. You love me more, you protect me when it hurts, and I love you more than even I thought possible.

With your hand in mine, we make the short six feet to the open living room. I feel your hand loosen, as you try to pull it away so he doesn't see. It's a familiar habit, but this time I hold your fingers tighter. I won't be ashamed. I see him look at you, and then at me, and back to you. I'm not sure what his look actually means. I realize how much of the time when the three of us are together I spend looking at you and ignoring him.

I can't read him. I'm not sure I want to. I remember the red heat in his eyes, but that's gone now. You've calmed him down. He is sitting on your couch and by the way you move gently around it, I can tell you don't want to sit next to him. You lead me to the oversized chair across from the couch, and I am surprised when you sit me down, and then sit down next to me. With both of us in the same chair, I can feel my skin tingling where it touches your skin. The sides of our legs touch, and your arm is comfortably around my back. I can feel you pressing yourself against me. You're trying to give me your strength. You're never for yourself, Liv, always for others, always for me, always for us.

You give me strength, and for the first time since this circus began, I know I can give it back to you. With your hand on my back, our bodies touching squeezed together on this chair for one, I feel your power and mine combine.

Elliot looks at both of us sitting so close, your arm wrapped around me, and I imagine the worst-case scenario. My heart is beating a million beats a minute, but I steel my resolve. This time I will save you. I will protect you against his anger and his verbal tirades. He looks at me, straight in the eyes. I see his mouth open, and I feel my body go on the defense. I'm shocked when I hear the softness in his voice. Staring me straight in the eyes, I hear him ask, "Do you love her?"

I wasn't expecting the question, but the answer comes anyway, easily and without hesitation. "Of course. More than anything."

He looks at you, and he asks, "And you love her?"

You nod at him, again wiping the tears from your eyes. I look at you and see you looking at me. Our eyes meet and we know we'll both be okay. We'll be okay because we're together.

He takes a deep breath. "I love her too," he says to me. I nod. I've always known.

"Will you take care of her Alex?" He asks. I look at you and smile. You're blushing.

"Yes, Elliot, I will take care of her." I smile at you, squeezing your fingers in mine.

"Are you happy, Liv?" he asks.

"Yes."

I hear him sigh. "I'm having a hard time with this." He says with surprising honesty. "I mean, I'm not like, against gay people, or anything. But you guys... I mean, Liv, I've met your boyfriends, and I just never thought that...well, that you'd. You know."

You interrupt. "I never thought this would happen. Not with anyone. But it did, and I'm happy. Finally." I feel your arm tighten around me. Not enough for him to see but me to feel.

"So you guys tell anyone?" he asks rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're first." You tell him.

"Wow."

"We didn't want to..." You don't finish and Elliot nods. We all understand.

Elliot gives us a half smile and sighs. "God, I could use a drink."

Fortunately, you're not the only one.


	14. Chapter 14 Fin

**Chapter 14: Fin**

I'm not so close to you that I'd be all up in your business, but this shit doesn't take an advanced degree. Elliot's been so far up your ass he can't even see the light of day anymore, and everyone knows that when any of us come in with a smile that big at an ungodly hour that there's something besides this job that's putting it on our face. We're detectives, after all. And I know I haven't smiled like that since I….well god damn, I can feel the smile returning as I relive the memory.

I know how it is, keeping this sort of thing to yourself. You don't want everyone all up in your shit. With what we do? Hell, it's easy to compartmentalize your life. Make everything have its own little pieces, love in one box, rape in another. Being on the DL, keeping it to ourselves--it's totally understandable. I mean, I'm not like y'all, but if it makes you happy, then you should go right ahead. When you're in the business of being the good guy, you don't need your personal shit out there. Too much to lose. But when you have someone to go home to, it makes some of this nonsense much more bearable.

So one day you come up to me, all nervous, with Cabot. We should talk, you tell me. We've all worked together for a long ass time. We know each other, but you can bet your ass that none of us have had a "talk" before. You tell me that you both wanted me to be in the loop, because y'all know I'll hear about it in the future. I'm thinking you guys been arrested for drunk and disorderly, or some kind of nonsense shit. So you take a deep breath and you tell me you'd been fucking each other. Well, you know, not as eloquently as all that, but I'm good at summaries.

I look you in the eyes and say "And?"

You look back at me expectantly, like I'm supposed to do something. Jump up, scream, something.

"That's it," you mumble.

"Good for you, kids." I say.

"Uh, okay, then, that's it…" you say, awkwardly as you and Cabot look at each other like what the fuck?

"If you ever want to make a movie I have some friends…" I add, getting a punch on the arm from you and a puzzled look from Cabot. You tell her to not worry about it and push her along flicking me off as you walk away. Hope it was good for you too.

I guess you told Stabler and he flipped his shit. Well, to hear Stabler tell it, you all gave him a pretty good show. He came to me before you did, told me that he behaved badly, but that he's trying to deal. I don't think Stabler's a homophobic prick; he's just not sure how he's gonna fit into a world where he's not all you have anymore. He's not ready. He's got what he believes and he lives in that world. He wasn't ready to see all that change. The man's got his routines. Old man like that, you gotta give him a chance to adjust.

I think that's why you bothered to clue me in. You figured I'd hear, that Munch'd hear and then we'd all be talking shit, and I guess you were trying to stop it. I don't know what you thought we'd be doing. Like we'd all freak out, like we don't have better shit to do than worry about your relationships.

I think Munch cares less than I do. He asks me one day if I've heard the news. I ask him if he's referring to the traffic report and he gives me another one of those annoyed looks, telling me no, he meant whether I had talked to you. He tells me that you sat him down too. Then he says, "Mazel Tov" and asks me if I think Cabot can hold her liquor.

Guess she's going out with us Monday nights.


	15. Chapter 15 Elliot

**Elliot 15**

It's been a rough couple of months.

Our relationship was rocky at first, but slowly, we began to rebuild. It was a piece at a time. I hated you looking at me and I could see the flicker of distrust in your eyes. The hurt that danced behind your gaze stalked me. I could feel it sometimes in myself—could I trust you when I knew you didn't entirely trust me? You were, after all, the person who was supposed to have my back.

I worked hard to regain your trust. We talked. We talked about Alex, and your new relationship. I helped you pick out a necklace you gave her for her birthday. Every time I see its gold sparkle around her neck, I smile at the memory, and remember that I was the one you had gone to for help. I even got to hear about how she rewarded you for it too, though for most of that story, I was pretty sure you were leaving out the best details.

I talked to Alex. I tried to see in her what you see in her. She's nicer than I thought she was. She has so much more personality out of the office, and she absolutely adores you. On Monday's, you'd bring her to O'Malley's. The first time you were both there neither of you moved or looked at each other. The second time she drank you under the table and the two of you ended up making out in a corner. Fin took pictures.

We talk now, slowly, haltingly about your relationship together. You'll tell me sometimes that you have to meet her, or that you have plans. Your face still lights up when she comes around, and it's still clear to everyone who knows you that you're lovesick. Most of the time, though, our lives continue to go on exactly as they had been. You're the same partner I have always had; only now you smile more. You seem happier and I know that's not a crime.

I look over at you, watching you without you noticing. You're not yourself today. You've been looking at that same page for the last hour. Your face is pale and you have deep dark circles under your eyes. You're so god damn stubborn though that even though I can look at you and tell you feel like shit, you wouldn't admit it. "I'll be right back," you say pushing back against your desk and practically running down the hall. I shake my head. I know that's it's hard for you to admit defeat, but this stomach flu has been going around the precinct for a few weeks now and has struck all of us. All of us, except you. And now, it's pretty obvious, it's gotten you too.

You stayed home all last week with Alex while she was sick, taking care of her. You would stop by in the morning grabbing a stack of paperwork and returning it completed the next day looking like you hadn't slept explaining you both had a rough night. Not once did you complain. And not only that but you carried our loads as each of us called out in turn, succumbing to the monster that was sweeping through the precinct.

You told us all that you were immune. You told us that you never get sick. I'd heard that speech from you before, and I already knew that you had an inflated trust in your immune system. So I've been watching closely as you've slowly started to show all the same symptoms each of us was stricken with, and I shake my head with a bemused grin as you still claim immunity.

I've offered to take you home.

Twice.

You refuse to admit that you're sick. Absolutely, positively, refuse to admit it. Instead, I've watched you dash down the hall three times in the last hour. Instead, of going home, you flop back into your chair and lean your head back your eyes closed.

"Liv?" I ask.

"I'm fine Elliot." You demand before I even ask a question.

"Really?"

"Uh huh." You mumble.

"You don't look fine." I point out, watching you pick your head up and steady yourself.

"Can you please just drop it?"

"Liv, can't you just admit, just for once that you're not Superman? No one expects you to be invincible. I even know how you feel. I had this, remember?" I ask.

"Elliot." Your voice warns me. I watch you lean forward, and I watch the color in your face change. "I swear I'm…" you start, but before you finish, you push away from your desk again and are gone.

I shake my head at you. I'm giving you one more chance and then I'm calling in the big guns.

I'm calling in Alex.


	16. Chapter 16 Olivia

OLIVIA 16

When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time alone. There wasn't anyone there to notice what I did. I celebrated my own victories, made my own goals, and nursed my own injuries. Weakness was something I never showed because it was a liability. Why point out to yourself that there was no one there to care?

When it comes down to it, being strong like that has helped me get through my life and to get where I am right now. If not for that, I'm not sure I could face the things I see every day. There's a reason this unit has a high turnover rate. The work can be god damn depressing sometimes, and the crimes don't stop, and you never can totally feel like you've done something, because for every one you put away, nine more go free.

I'm not good at weakness. It's not something I show, or display. It's something I bury as deeply inside myself as possible to keep my shell as thick as possible to keep myself safe. So, sickness is not something I do. I do not get sick. Period. I can continue to plow through. I can continue to fight for as long as it takes.

You and I have conversations about this all the time. You remind me that I don't always have to be strong. That you can support me the same way I'm able to support you. I smile when you say it, when I look deep into your swirling eyes and I can see the truth that is written there. I can't explain to you the hidden piece that fights inside me to hold it back. The little bit that reminds me not to let myself go, and to make sure my focus is always on you.

And so now, even though my head pulses and my stomach is doing flips, I'm more than ever determined not to give in. I can't show you this side of me; I'm not ready to need you. I would hate knowing you feel obligated, that you are changing your life to look out for me. I know you would tell me that you loved doing it. That you were happy

It scares me.

I'm used to Elliot's shit and to be honest, he's used to mine. He also understands how I feel, that I need my control. He does too. But he's also dragged my ass home more than once, and I know I can only push him so far. I lie back against the wall of the bathroom stall debating on getting back up and heading back to my desk. I know I shouldn't bother. I'll be back here soon enough. I'm starting to realize that I'm probably going to die here.

Someone knocks gently on the door, and I know it's Elliot, and I want him just to leave me alone and let me die here in peace.

"Fuck off Elliot," I grumble, trying to pull myself off the floor. I feel my stomach lurch and I'm back on my knees in a moment, retching again with tears in my eyes. I am both angry and embarrassed as hell. What's with him and being part of the worst moments of my existence? I just want to die here alone. Is that really too much to ask?

And then I hear the shoes on the tile and I know it's not Elliot. Before I can process the sounds, your hands are on my back holding hair off my face and off my neck, telling me it's okay, and that you're here, and you're going to take care of me. I take a deep breath and lean back, and you sit on the floor of the bathroom in your full business suit holding me in your arms.

"Why didn't you call me?" You ask sadly, as you pull me into you like a small child.

I smile wanly at you, fighting between wanting to pull away and wanting to be held by you and told that everything's going to be all right. "I'm fine, Alex. Really." I say, finally sitting up, looking you in the eye.

"Do you see yourself?" You ask me gently. "Sweetie," you say, reaching out for me, putting your hand on my forehead, "you're burning up. I was so worried about you." You continue, looking at me, not letting me start denying that there was anything to worry about, "Do you know what I thought when I saw Elliot's name on my caller ID with three messages all marked urgent?"

"That we had a really good bust?"

"Maybe, but all of them were about you sitting at your desk throwing up into your trash can."

"I was not." I mumble. I was pretty sure he hadn't seen that.

"You should have called me." You scold gently.

"I'm really okay."

You sigh, and look at my face. "Liv." You say quietly.

"Alex, I'm okay."

"Really?" You ask, standing up. For a second you look at me, and then you cross your arms.  
I suddenly feel the loss of your heat and I miss it immediately. I look up at you and I can see that you're getting annoyed with me.

"Get up Liv." You demand.

"What?" I ask looking up at you, suddenly confused.

"Come on, get up." You say, grabbing my hands and yanking me off the floor.

"Alex, no," I moan as my equilibrium changes through the quick movement, and I feel the swirling in my head. I feel my stomach lurch but I swallow hard and I control it. I look at you triumphant. I can tell you didn't think I would make it through that, and I see you looking for your plan B.

"Come on," you say, pulling me with you.

"Where are we going?" I whine. "I'm okay, Alex, I have a lot of work to do. I don't want to go…"

"We're not leaving." You say, quickly cutting me off.

"Where are we going then?" I ask hating the tone of my voice. It sounds needy, even though I'm trying my best to sound normal.

"Back to work," you say.

"But." I sigh, looking behind me feeling the nausea bubble inside me again.

"What Liv? You're okay, right? We're going to go sit together at your desk for the next hour, and then we'll go out together and get a nice big lunch. You know what I'm in the mood for…" you say, as you sit me back into my chair. Elliot looks at me, and then looks at you. "Great news Elliot, Liv's feeling better." You pull yourself onto my desk and cross your legs while you shove a file into my hands. I watch as you use your ankle to push the trash can closer to me, and then rest your foot on my chair which you slowly begin to shake. The movement is immediately unsettling, making things spin. I look up at you and want to plead with you to stop, but I know what you're trying to do and I'm determined not to let you win this. I catch your eyes and you challenge me with yours. I stare back down at the case file and try to focus. If I can just focus, I can win. I just wish I could convince my body to follow my mind. "She's going to stay right here," you continue, entirely ignoring me, "and then we're going out for lunch, you want to go? I was thinking…"

And Elliot breaks right in, "Steak, definitely, nice and rare…"

I hate you, Elliot. I hate you so much. Of course he would know probably my only weakness. I can go to almost any crime scene in New York and be fine. Dead body? No problem. Been lying in an apartment with no air conditioning for three weeks in summer? Sure. But I can't, for the life of me, watch Elliot or you eat a steak. Both of you eat them so they're still moving around on your plate. The blood pooling around them as Elliot stabs a raw piece of dead animal and smiles. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick on a good day, and this is not a good day.

"Oh, that'd be good," you murmur at him like he just suggested something sexual.

Before either of you get any further, I feel my stomach lurch again. You've won, and you know it. You slide off the desk and hold me while my stomach empties into the garbage can by your feet.

You lean down next to me putting your face next to mine. "Do you want to keep going?" you whisper.

I shake my head.

"So how do you feel?" You ask me, quietly.

"I'm sick Alex," I whine quietly into your ear.

"Are you ready to go home so I can take care of you?" You whisper.

"Uh huh." I moan.

With that, you stand up straight and smooth out your jacket. "She's ready," you say, facing Elliot. He whispers something to you, and you turn back to me. "Can you stand up sweetie?" You ask me suddenly sweet again. I nod, and as I push myself up both you and Elliot move to support me.

"I'm not a cripple," I whine.

"Liv," you warn me, and immediately I know there will be no complaining.

Elliot stares at you with his mouth open and immediately pride swells in his face. "Nice Cabot," he says like I'm not there. You smile at him and nod your head with a quick professional nod. I sigh.

I don't think I can take you two as friends.


	17. Chapter 17 Alex

Alex 17

I'm listening to the defense summation. The case is open and shut. I can't believe the defense attorney actually let this one go to trial. There were witnesses, DNA, the victim who could identify her attacker and had, in open court. It couldn't have been better unless you and Stabler had served up a video.

I'm supposed to be paying attention, but my mind is entirely on you. I absently scribble circles on my notepad, looking like I'm diligently taking important notes. In fact, my mind is on you, a million miles away. You weren't right this morning. Not when you first woke up, and not after when you looked so distant and pale. You weren't acting right either. I shouldn't have left you. I shouldn't have let myself be consoled by your false bravado. But you insisted you were fine and you kissed me gently as we went our separate ways this morning and you promised to call me if you needed me. I shrugged it off, but I can't stop thinking about it now.

I watch as the windbag for the defense sits down, the jury is given instructions, and they file out. I look at the pay phone outside the court room and I think about calling you, but I have my phone on vibrate and I know if you need me you'll call. If it had vibrated I would have known, I've had my hand on the damn thing the whole morning.

I get back to my office and grab the messages from my desk. Boring, yeah right, not in this lifetime, I think, as I slam the little pink slips of paper down onto the desk. Then one catches my eye. "Detective Stabler called re: Benson. Call ASAP." I check the time on the message and it was over an hour ago.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at it. I have messages. How the hell? I quickly check the missed call list and see Stabler's name three times in a row. I immediately grab my phone off my desk and dial your cell. It rings through to your voice mail and my heart starts to beat harder. What's wrong? What happened to you? I stare at my phone. I don't want to call him and hear you're not okay. My fingers are shaking as I hit the return call button.

"Stabler," Elliot barks into the phone.

"It's Alex, Elliot. What's wrong?"

"Alex, where the hell have you been?" he asks, and I ignore the harshness in his tone. I've learned enough about him to know it's worry and not anger that's making his voice change.

"Court, what's wrong?" I ask.

"Olivia" He sighs.

"I figured that part out," I snap back.

"She's got that flu, Alex."

"Is she home? I can meet her..." I say, looking over my desk deciding what I can put off and what has to get done. I stop and think about your face this morning. It's so obvious. I feel bad for not insisting, for not demanding that you stay home. I can see it so clearly now and I feel guilt flooding through me.

"No, she's not home." He laughs.

"Why not?" I ask slowly. The entire justice system of New York had crawled to a standstill as unit by unit all the officers, lawyers, and judges went down for the count with this virus sweeping through the buildings. I got my turn last week, and after getting to spend the first day lying on the bathroom floor wishing for death, the rest of the week, I spent in bed, lying in a little ball moaning and begging for my mommy. You were so sweet to me. The entire week, you were right there. You did everything for me, you held me when I was sick, and you made sure I took Tylenol every four hours. You made my favorite foods, and even ran out at three in the morning when I decided the only thing in the world that would make me feel better was strawberry ice cream. I owe you. I owe you big.

"You've never experienced Olivia sick before have you?"

"No," I say slowly.

"God, you're in for a treat." He laughs again. I don't understand why all this is so damn funny to him. "Let's put it this way. I finally asked her to please stop just throwing up at her desk, so she's spent the last hour on the floor of the bathroom. She still won't admit there's anything wrong."

"Are you serious?"

"She took case files in there. She's stubborn." You sigh.

"No one's that stubborn," I say, just as the mental picture of you doing just what he said floods my mind.

I hear his laughter again. "Come see for yourself." He says, then he pauses. "Listen, I'm not calling to tattle, I'm just calling, well, I just wanted permission to, well, I wanted to know if you want to get her or if you want me to."

"Have Don send her home," I sigh.

"See, funny thing. He's not here. Munch is theoretically in charge and he was called out, and you sure as hell know she doesn't listen to me. "

"I'll be right there," I sigh. "We can do it together."

When I get to the precinct, Elliot points out the door, and I take a deep breath. I push it open slowly and call out your name. I can hear you, rather than see you, and I find you quickly, doing what you did for me only a few days before when I was in your exact position. Tears are streaming down your face and you lean your head into my shoulder and sniffle.

You're breaking my heart, but just as Elliot says, you're being pigheaded. When you balk at me the first time, I try to reason with you. Your forehead is burning hot, and at the same time I can feel you shiver in my arms. When I ask you the second time if you're ready to come home, you balk at me again. I pull myself together to realize how miserable you must feel and how you're not exactly rational. The third time, I'm ready to play the same childish game you're playing with me.

I stand up, and look down at you. I hate to do this to you. I really do. It's going to hurt me a lot more than it's going to hurt you. I swear. But I can't pick you up and carry you out of here, and if Elliot tries it, I think you'd try to press charges. I pull you up and watch your face change colors and I hold my breath expecting you to lose it right there. I see you fight hard to gain your equilibrium, and you smile at me like you've won some kind of prize. I hold you up until I'm sure you can stand and sigh to myself as I can see in your face that you're determined to have a standoff. If you want to be sick here, that's fine. I will let you play your game.

We'll see who wins in the end.


	18. Chapter 18 Elliot

**Elliot 18**

I have to admit I'm pretty impressed when Alex is able to get you off the floor of that bathroom by herself and even more when she talks you into surrender in the office. Not only does she get you to surrender, but she gets you to admit you're wrong. When I hear that, I almost have a heart attack on the spot. When she gets you to walk out the front door without kicking and screaming the entire way, I'm pretty sure she is a goddess among men. Alex watches you so carefully as we walk down the stairs, I'm a step behind, Alex's eyes telling me to be ready to grab for you if you go down. I nod at her, and follow ready to catch you

Alex throws me her keys and asks me to go get her car with pleading eyes. I smile and walk off, turning back to watch her looking at you and keeping you talking to her. I can see you trying to pull yourself together preparing for your next round. Alex quietly wraps your coat around your shoulders and they slowly deflate.

I never thought I'd live to see the day, but Olivia Benson: The Living Legend, the same woman who actually made whip sounds at me when I called home, has finally been whipped herself.

I watch as you crawl into the back of the car without complaint. You lean against the seat and close your eyes. Alex crawls in next to you and whispers in your ear. You smile, and you don't move as you let her buckle you in. Alex crawls back out of the car and leans herself against the side of the car breaking her eyes away from you for the first time since she's been here.

"Thanks Elliot," she whispers to me.

"Eh," I say, suddenly embarrassed that she's looking at me.

"No, really. I would never have known if you hadn't called. God knows she wouldn't have called me." I look back into the car and you haven't moved. Alex catches my eyes and looks back at you with concern in her eyes. When she hears your light snore, she smiles. "She's out."

"I don't know how the hell you did that." I shake my head.

Alex just smiles at me. "Magic." She says.

Magic my ass, I think to myself shaking my head. "You driving?" she asks me.

"You, you want me to go with you?"

"Of course," you say, looking at me as though I'm crazy. "I can't get her up three flights by myself."

I smile at her and take the keys, happy to still be able to help.


	19. Chapter 19 Olivia

Olivia 19

You let Elliot practically carry me up the stairs, which I complain about only loud enough for him to hear. When we get to the door you thank him and tell him to sit, while you grab me and take me to our bedroom. You sit me on the bed, and you grab a trash can and hand it to me. I look at it and look away. I feel bad enough without the reminder. I'm not that weak. I try to smile at you while you search through the dresser pulling out my favorite oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers throwing them next to me on the bed. I watch you, as you stop moving for the first time and look at me.

"Alex, I can, I can do this." I try to explain.

"This isn't out of obligation," you say.

"You can go," I whine at you. I know I'm going to be sick and I want you to just leave.

"I know," you say slowly, "but I want to be here with you."

"Please, just go," I choke out.

"Sweetie," you walk towards me realizing from my face that I'm not okay. I lean over and gag and again, I feel you supporting me, holding me and rubbing my back. There's nothing left to come up—the worst feeling in the world, especially when I remember that based on what you went through, I have a long way to go. I feel hot tears streaming down my cheeks, which I try hard to push away.

"Alex, I don't want you to see me like this," I try to explain.

"Olivia, stop." You say. "This is when I want to be here the most. Please, let me love you."

I look into your eyes and see the love swirling in it. I want to just give in. I want to just do it. Instead of waiting for my response, you get down on your knees in front of me. Slowly you start to unbutton the button down I have on, and carefully, you slide it off my shoulders. You fingers leave cool trails over my hot skin. You're so careful, and slow with me, whispering to me what you're next move is going to be. You slip the t-shirt you pulled out for me back over my head. You stand up, and put your arms out to me. I stand and let you work my pants down my hips, and hold onto me as you help me step into the boxers. You kiss me for compliance as you slide them up my legs.

"Come here, sweetie," you say, holding you against me. "I love you," you tell me. "I love you so much, in sickness and in health," you say, kissing the tip of my nose gently. "Right now," you say, quietly bringing me gently over to the bed, pulling down the blankets and letting me crawl in, "you need to rest. I'm going to go get rid of Elliot and I'll be right back, okay?"

I nod at you, wanting to tell you that you don't have to, but for once, I'm ready to give in and need you. As my head hits the pillow, I feel so tired. You sit next to me for a moment and run your fingers through my hair.

"'Lex?" I ask sleepily.

"Yes sweetheart?" you ask, gently. It's getting harder to concentrate. You know that playing with my hair always puts me right to sleep.

"Love you," I mumble. I close my eyes, only for a second and…


	20. Chapter 20 Elliot

**Elliot 20**

I sit uncomfortably on the couch waiting for Alex to come back, pretending that I can't hear what's going on in the other room. Your apartment is so god damn small but Alex told me to bring you here because it was closer than her place which somehow, I'm sure, is much bigger. I look at the coffee table in front of me and see copies of some law journals, and an old newspaper. I can hear the lilt of Alex's voice in the next room, a constant chatter. I pick up the newspaper, determined to not listen when I see the little album under it. You've never been sentimental and I'm immediately curious. I look over my shoulder and I can still hear the two of you.

I flip open the album and it's full of pictures of you and Alex. There are candid shots of you standing in front of places I recognize, some I don't. There's a picture of you and Alex kissing in front of a sunset, the pink of the sun streaking between you leaving both of you in silhouette. You hold her close, and she has one foot in the air as she reaches up to catch your mouth. I recognize the picture from the vacation you took two had taken together to some remote resort on some small island in the Bahamas. You carry a picture of Alex in your wallet from that same trip. She's looking at the camera like she looks at you; the same bright blue eyes, and a simple smile. It's hidden in your bullet proof vest in a pocket right over your heart. I caught you once staring at it absently, running your fingers over the picture of her long blonde hair after we executed a warrant one night. You shrugged at me with a shy smile and tucked it back in.

I turn the page to find a strip of photos from one of those cheesy photo machines that snaps four pictures in a row. The two of you smiling, another looking into each other's eyes, laughing, and then a quick kiss.

Both of you look so happy.

I smile wistfully at the pictures wondering when you had the time to do all these things, to make all these memories. I turn the page and I feel a hand on my shoulder, "Elliot?" Alex asks me.

"Sorry," I say, slamming the book shut. She smiles at me, forgiving the invasion into both of your privacy. "They're nice pictures," I stammer still uncomfortable.

"Thanks," she says quietly, re-opening the album and looking down at a picture of you and her laughing at something unseen. "This one's in my wallet." She says with a smile, pointing to the small brown billfold on the table behind us. "I carry it with me to remind me of how lucky I am," she says, letting her thoughts drift off, and a small smile comes to her face.

"Who took them?" I ask her.

"I did, mostly." She answers, absently. "I dabble." She says.

"They're really good," I say, staring back down at the pictures, you, the link between us.

"She's easy to photograph," you say, and for one more second are silent, before remembering I'm even in the room. "Ellliot," she says quietly, "thank you, seriously, for all your help."

"It's not a big deal Alex." I tell her.

"It may not be to you, but it is to me. We may not have always gotten along, Elliot."

"To put it lightly," I say under my breath.

"And I may have had something to do with that." She admits to me, ignoring my commentary. "I'm very passionate about my work just as you are about yours." She takes a deep breath. "I know how much you love her Elliot."

I look up at her, surprised to hear it coming from her mouth. "She loves you the same way." You continue. "You will always be a huge part of her life, and I hope you know how much I respect that, and how much I want you to always know that, well, that she needs you to be there for her too."

"I don't intend to go anywhere."

"Good," she says, taking my hand into hers and smiling at me.


	21. Chapter 21 Alex

**Chapter : 21 Alex**

I hate you right now and I swear to God, I'm never speaking to you again. Yes. I've said that before but I really mean that this time. Pure raw embarrassment is oozing out of every pore in my body and you're sitting here next to me in the emergency room at nearly two o'clock in the morning with that god damn smirk on your face.

It's so obvious that this is entirely amusing to you. With that damn smirk, you might as well stand up and give a dramatic interpretation of the events that got us here. That look, the cocky half smile, usually makes me swoon for you, but if you don't knock it off right now I'm going to slap it off your face.

We were having a romantic night in, the first in recent memory. Both of us had begged for the same night to be together, at home. No distractions but each other and our wonderfully soft bed. But this is us and when has a great night with us ever remained uneventful?

We're on the second hour of waiting here for someone to acknowledge our presence. I'm tapping my foot impatiently on the tiled floor, holding ice on my aching face. Our wait's not surprising since this is Manhattan and my obviously broken nose is at the bottom of the list when it comes to major trauma tonight.

You've had plenty of time to cycle through your emotions. First you were concerned, my eyes were tearing and blood was pouring out of my nose. Then on the way here, you drove through your guilt, apologizing so many times that I wanted to kill you for that.

But now?

Now you're totally amused and working on slowly driving me insane. And you're so goddamn proud of yourself. I was worried, for what time I had to even think about this, that you'd beat yourself up forever, but then, I was pretty sure you had managed to get past the guilt when you actually suggested that I write the phrase "traumatic sex injury" on the intake form.

I keep catching you looking at me out of the corner of your eye, and then the smirk gets to almost be a snicker and you look away quickly. At least you're trying not to laugh at me, which I appreciate since I think that would drive me right over the edge of sanity. You tell me it's okay and that you're sure that this isn't really that bad. Sure, my eyes'll probably bruise, but now we have a story to tell our grandchildren. I tell you that if you ever tell anyone about this, especially our grandchildren, I will have you killed, and I know people, I could really do it. You smile at me and tell me that I should consider myself lucky that my sex life is so adventurous.

"Fuck you," I mutter under my breath.

"See, that's how you got yourself into this mess in the first place," you counter.

"Olivia Benson, you shut your mouth."

"Wanna shut it for me?" you ask, wagging your eyebrow at me.

I roll my eyes at you and look away. You're so not sorry. I hear my name and at the same moment we both jump up. "You stay here," I growl at you, knowing that your amusement will lead to the retelling of the gory details of your pelvic bone thrusting into my nose as you screamed my name.

You give me hurt and pleading eyes and tell me you want to be with me. I acquiesce, reluctantly, pleading with you silently in my head to not tell the story. The nurse looks at you questioningly and you smile and say, "Friend."

I sigh. "She's my girlfriend," I correct you, feeling my pulse go faster. What's the point in lying? Not after we tell them how this happened. I feel your hand suddenly on my back and even though I can't see it, I can feel your smile. The nurse, of course, doesn't say a word, but smiles at you as she shows us a small room. She looks at my nose and sees the bruises starting to form. She asks me what happened, and just for a second I hesitate. "It's a long story," I say. My pause, though, is just long enough for you to pipe in with: "She walked into a door." Walked into a door? That's not a long story. Damn.

She's going to think you hit me.

She looks at me suspiciously, but smiles, as she looks at the now crooked line of my nose and tells me that the doctor will be right in. I wait for her to leave and I look at you like you've finally lost it. "I walked into a door? Are you insane?"

"What?" you ask.

"They're going to think you assaulted me."

"They are not." You say, casually.

"Olivia. We walked in here, looking like we were about to kill each other. You tell her I walked into a door? No one walks into doors."

"People do. I mean, what'd you want me to say? Did you want me to tell her the whole story? I'm sure you're not the first one to have this happen, well, the way it happened," you say, your smirk threatening again to get out of control. I pout at you and you rock into me. "We could offer to reenact it for him." You offer.

"Olivia!"

You start to laugh, until you see the doctor stride in the door accompanied by the security guard. The guard looks at you and accesses his risk in asking you to step outside before he actually asks you to go. The doctor, who is approximately 14 years old, starts asking me about whether or not I've ever been abused. And what exactly happened to my nose. I can feel myself blushing a deep crimson as I explain to him quietly just exactly how my nose got like this. He looks just about as embarrassed as I am.

This just can't get worse. It's not possible. It's just not possible.


	22. Chapter 22 Olivia

**Chapter 22: Olivia**

Okay, this isn't going well at all.

Yeah, so now God is punishing me for finding all of this a little too amusing. I mean, come on. In a few years, when you're not in pain and exceedingly embarrassed, you'll think this is all hilarious. You will. I swear. It was bad enough that any of this happened in the first place. I mean, statistically speaking, how many people actually get injured while in the throes of passion. It's a one in a million chance. We were out of sync for only a second, a millisecond really. You know, besides you, I can't even think of another case like this. I know that I'm kind of responsible for that. But I swear it's not totally my fault. I mean, was I supposed to know that...oh forget it.

But now I'm out here in a crowded hallway with some idiot who's asking me if I like to "rough up my lady friend," and it's taking all I have not to deck the guy. Of course, decking the guy would go over really well for proving that I don't have a violent temper. And why the hell does he keep calling you my "lady friend?"

I take a deep breath and remind myself that I've been on the other end of this conversation so many times. Somewhere deep inside me, I know this guy's just doing his job, just like I do when I have to ask the tough questions, but he's just not getting it. He doesn't see that there is no way in the world I would ever hit you. This is all so ridiculous, but suddenly, I'm on the wrong side of the badge.

"Can you tell me what happened, maam?" he asks me, looking at me like I've already been proven guilty.

"I'd rather not," I say, sighing, looking back over my shoulder towards the room where I know you are answering the same questions.

"I assure you, this is standard procedure." He says, and I know that he's totally full of shit.

I feel totally idiotic, because really, this is totally explainable. You were teasing me, and I was, well, reacting, and it was a freak thing. But here I am, suddenly, trying to explain something that's relatively personal to someone wearing a badge that they found in a Cracker Jack box. Instinctively, I stick my hand into my back pocket for my real badge as I explain to him that I'm a cop and that he's making a mistake.

He's looking at me search my pockets with a smug frown, like he's heard this line before and it happens all the time down here in the mean hallways of the ER. I finally remember where it is, that I left the damn thing on the floor, right next to the bed in the pile where you threw my clothes, after you tore them off my body. When we left, I couldn't find them. You're wearing my shirt, and I have a pair of your old shoes on. We ran out in such a hurry, more worried about your nose bleeding than having my shield.

I sigh as I see the doctor stick his head out of the room and becks me back in, calling off the questioning. Obviously you managed to convince him that I haven't beaten the crap out of you. I smile at the guard, who looks pissed that I'm getting away, and I walk in to see you sitting on a tiny gurney looking truly miserable. Your eyes are starting to bruise now, which I sort of figured would happen. It's just like when Elliott broke his nose last year when he got knocked in the face during the softball game against the DA's office.

I slide next to you on the gurney and sigh as you straighten your back. I reach for your hand, but you pull away. You are slipping into your professional mode. When you feel judged, I get pushed aside. I'm so used to seeing you, smiling, crying, showing me your heart. But here we sit, you refusing to even look at me. I sense your discomfort and I test you by sliding towards you. You slide away. You act like I'm not even here.

The doctor stares down the line of your nose and orders an x-ray. You sniffle as he tells you that it looks crooked, and that if it is broken, there's not much they can do until it stops swelling. You make an appointment now to see a doctor in a few days that can reduce it. It's all very routine; he's trying to assure you. He doesn't look at me as he walks out of the room.

As soon as he's gone, you slide over next to me. I want to do what you did to me and slide away. I love you but I hate the game.

"Does it look bad?" you ask. Now's not the time to have this fight. You hurt and so do I. What a wonderful end to a delightful evening. I smile at you gently, and let you slide over and rest your head on my shoulder. I tell you that it looks like it hurts.

"That's code for yes," you grumble.

"I love you no matter what you look like." I try, gently sliding long blonde strands out of the intense blue eyes that are staring back at me.

That makes you start to cry.

Oh Jesus.

Do I ever learn?


	23. Chapter 23 Alex

**Chapter 23: Alex**

I can feel every beat of my heart pounding in the bridge of my nose. I'm tired, and I'm in pain, and this doctor is telling me that I'm supposed to wait a week before he can do anything to fix this. I guess I hadn't expected that. I figured that modern medicine should be able to make the pain stop and make it not look dreadful all in the same hour.

He's looking at us with this slight smirk on his arrogant face that's making me feel we're in seventh grade and that we just got caught making out in the closet. I can see him leering, I can feel him thinking about you, and me, and what we were doing to end up here.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch you stretch your hand out to hold mine, but I can feel this guy getting off on seeing us together in his mind. I can feel my back straighten involuntarily as I pull behind my facade. I can feel my heart break when your sigh registers in my ears as I slide my body out of your hand's grasp.

I don't mean to be like this, hot and cold with you. I love you, I love you so much, but I hate the idea of this bastard looking at you and looking at me and thinking about what we do with each other behind closed doors. Yeah, I know he's a doctor. That makes him some kind of professional who's supposed to be incapable of this kind of blatant horny lust, but I'm a lawyer. That makes me a professional too, and I know what runs through my head when you walk into the room in those tight sweaters and skin tight jeans. I know this guy's thoughts are far from innocent and when he looks at us, and it just makes my skin crawl. How can you not see it? See the judgment in his eyes? Why don't you care?

He turns to leave, telling us he has to get a special prescription pad to write out the painkillers. He assures me it will make me forget that I even have a nose, let alone that it hurts like hell. As soon as he leaves, I push into you, letting my head fall onto your shoulder. I can feel you embrace me, your warm arms around my shoulders, sliding your fingers through my hair. I feel warm and safe, but still on edge. I know he's coming back to judge us some more.

I bait you, asking you what it looks like. No matter what you say, I'm already on the edge of tears. You're trying to be diplomatic when you tell me that my nose looks like it hurts. I know what that means. I can feel the swelling in my face without seeing it. I know that for the next few weeks people will be asking me what exactly happened to it and I don't want to explain.

I hate society for judging us, but I'm my hardest critic, and I hate being ashamed. I'm not used to it. I've always been so...socially acceptable. And honestly, I don't know if I'm really gay, or straight, or whether I'm some weird mix of the two. And I don't know if it really matters.

I work with the law. Everything is precise and neatly labeled-it's meant to be black and white. It's meant to be a set of rules that guide the way we think and how to deal with any situation. Every time it doesn't work that way, it's my job to redefine the situation to fit in those black and white standards.

To have my own life fall into that gray area without the easy manipulation of case law is nearly intolerable. All I really know about this is that I love you, and I guess if that makes me a lesbian, then that's what I am. I don't want to be so cliché as to say I don't believe in labels because that's precisely the problem. I do believe in labels. I believe in them with all my heart. But all these labels seem wrong to me. I don't know what to be.

The doctor runs back into the room with the special triplicate form and tries to hand it to me. Instead, you reach out and take it from him. He's trying to explain to me what it is and how to take it, but I can see that he has your rapt attention. I know that you're already planning to watch over me and make sure I do everything this man says. He hands you some paperwork with an appointment time to get my nose re-set and we're on our way. You're going to take care of me, and I know I love that feeling.


	24. Chapter 24 Elliot

**Chapter 24: Elliot**

"Rough night?" I ask you as you wander in and throw your stuff onto your desk. You look like you didn't sleep. I hope you had fun, because judging from the look in your eyes; you either had the best night of your life or the worst. Somehow, I'm not sure it matters. You more flop at your desk than sit there, staring off into space.

"Fuck you, Elliot." You mutter at me without even thinking.

"What?" I ask, with a smirk.

Nothing. You don't say a damn thing and for a second I don't think you heard me. Then I catch your eyes on me, appraising my level of seriousness. You don't need to say a word. You don't want to talk about it. You're either in a really good mood and you know I'm going to tease you, or you're in a really bad mood and you're going to eat my balls for breakfast. One point goes to bad mood as you throw yourself into a stack of paperwork that's been on your desk for a week. You're not even looking at me. "So how was your day off?" I ask trying for a casual.

You don't even look up. "I don't want to talk about it." You say.

Okay. That's point two for bad mood. "That good huh?" I ask.

"We spent the night in the ER, Alex broke her nose."

"Is she okay?" I ask, knowing that can hurt like a bitch.

"Yeah, she's fine." You say, staring at me. "Can we drop it now?"

"Sure, sure." I say, staring back at my desk. And then the question of the hour hits me all at once.

"Liv?" I ask you slowly. You look up at me for a second and I decide to take the risk. "How'd it happen?"

"She walked into a door." You say, absently.

"Liv, you hit her?" I ask.

Your head falls to the desk. "No, I didn't hit her."

"Then?" You say with a snicker.

"I don't want to talk about it." You groan.

"Okay, fine," I say, knowing that whatever happened, you'll tell me when you're ready. "Did you see these?" I ask. Your face reddens as you look at the envelope I toss at you. "It's the gala thing," I say, and you take a deep breath.

Every year, they send us these invitations to a bash held by the mayor. Every year we all beg Cragen to let us not go. Every year, our whole squad gets dragged by our asses to this thing. It's always been you and me. I couldn't get Kathy to go one of these things even if I really wanted her to. And at least with the two of us, the misery is mandatory.

But I search your face seeing if this year's going to be different. This year things are different. This year you have her. I guess I'm kind of jealous. Okay, I'm very jealous. Now I'm alone unless I get to take Fin and I think Munch already has dibs. You mumble something to yourself as you toss the invitation back to me. Right back into the paperwork you go. I hate it when you're in a mood.


	25. Chapter 25 Olivia

**Chapter 25: Olivia**

"Hey, Alex," I say, quietly opening the door and poking my head inside to see you sitting on the couch, flipping through the TV channels. You look at me, and while you are bruised, your mood has improved.

"You're early," You say happily.

"Yeah, Elliot let me leave. I think he took pity on me."

"Sometimes I love that man," You say with a grin, turning to watch me walk to you and place a gentle kiss on your cheek.

"How is it?" I ask, taking your chin and gently looking at your face.

"It's better after I took that stuff that Doogie Howser gave me."

"He wasn't that young." I smile at your insistence that he wasn't a day over thirteen.

"I'm not complaining, it made it stop hurting." You smile.

"Yeah," I sigh. I look down at the envelope I hold in my hand and tap it nervously against my thigh. It's the same one that Elliot thrust into my hand earlier this morning. "Alex, uh, can we talk about something?"

"Sure," you say, glancing between my face and the envelope in my hand.

"The Mayor's Ball," I say, as I throw you the envelope and let you open it yourself.

You look down the paper and smile. "You and Elliot should coordinate your outfits. You'll be adorable."

"Actually, I was thinking about not going with Elliot this year." I said slowly. You look at me quizzically. I sigh and look at the floor. "I was thinking that we could go, you know, together."

I can see your face change and you stare at me wide eyed, "You know that's not going to happen." You say dismissively.

"Why not?" I ask. "Everyone knows anyway."

"Everyone you know knows." You correct me. "I can't, I just can't make that kind of political statement."

"What statement Alex? That you love someone? That you found someone who loves you back?"

"That's not the statement I mean and you know it."

"So that's what I am to you?" I ask

"Of course not, Liv, we've talked about this. We've talked about what this could mean for my job," You remind me as though I'm a child.

"Why don't I know any of your friends?" I ask you quietly.

"You wouldn't like them," you say quickly as a defense.

"That's not what I asked you."

"Because, Liv, because it's a different world. My job is political. I have to tread lightly."

"We don't have to go together," I say, trying to salvage what I truly want from you. "We can both grab dates. You can have El, and I'll beg Fin. At least we can be together."

"Liv, it's not going to work. It's just one night. What's the big deal?"

So, flash forward three months. I'm here, standing with Elliot instead of you. We get here first, he and I chat like always, only we get the special added privilege of wearing stupid clothes to do it. He senses my anxiety, and before I know it, he has alcohol in my hand, and I've downed the second one before I can finally feel some of the tension leaving my shoulders.

And then, of course, I see you. The guy you brought was some sleazebag you knew before. You assured me he was a perfect gentleman. I don't like the idea of this guy ever being alone with you. Not to mention you've been here for less than thirty seconds and the asshole is already holding your hand. I turn my back to you, reminding myself that's more than I'll ever get.

Elliot scans the room and shakes his head. I immediately turn and see that guy wrapping his arms around you. You're smiling and introducing him around. I can hear you in my mind telling all your friends about how great he is.

"I want another shot." I say to Elliot.

"Liv, that's not the…"

"Get it," I fire at him.

He turns on his heel and is back in a second. He flinches when I down it in a second. This is what you wanted, huh? So here I am, standing behind Elliot, restlessly pushing myself from foot to foot, and trying to make the shooting pain in my heels stop. I hate these god damn shoes. They're totally impractical, and they're killing my feet. I didn't even know I owned these things until you dragged them out of the back of the closet with a huge smile. Now I remember why they were lying back there. I should learn to say no.

I would have done anything to stay at home tonight. I would have rather known you were here yourself without me than to be able to watch you and not touch. Yet here I am, feeling like a Barbie doll and to make this worse, I don't even get to have the collected benefit of being your date. I get to watch some sleazy dickhead friend of yours try everything he can to make it socially acceptable to feel you up. If he doesn't watch that hand that's slowly slipping down your back and onto your ass, I'm going to break it for him.

Elliot leans over me and tells me if I want he'd be happy to have Munch French kiss me to make her jealous. I look at him desperately for a second, realizing he's joking, but I can feel the tears choking in my throat. I can see you behind him, laughing with that guy, who is now twirling around with you on the dance floor. The song, of course, is the same that I swung you around our apartment to earlier, and he holds you just as tightly as I did.

My throat is tightening and in a second, I'm going to be sobbing. I take the deepest breath I can, and tell Elliot I'll be right back as I bolt for somewhere I can break down alone.


	26. Chapter 26 Elliot

**Chapter 26: Elliot**

It was just a stupid joke, but the minute I say it, I can see your face change. I feel you blow by me and you mumble something about being right back and I can hear the tension in your voice. I can hear tears, and pain, and I can feel in the way you nearly run out of the room that you're breaking up inside. I wondered why I got to be your date tonight. I watched you and Alex for the last couple of weeks and while you both seemed okay, there was a distance in your eyes that was new. Ever since that damn invitation came to this stupid mandatory fun. You buzz buy me, and I swear to God, I should have grabbed you and stopped you. Instead, I'm a step behind, my head full of buzzing conversations, scanning the room for people to avoid. Before I even register the scene you're weaving your way through the room.

I look around to find Alex. I knew it earlier when I came to pick you up, the way that you looked at her, that this wasn't your idea. I should have known better than play right into it. I watch for her, and she's not hard to spot. She stands out in a crowd; her gorgeous blonde hair and toned body make her hard to miss. She's the only one in this room who has the power to make you cry. And then I see her wrapped up in some guy's arms. He's staring down her dress and I realize that she doesn't see him doing it. She better be careful though, if she bends over a little more she's going to get a tip. I see her turn her head as you run from the room.

She saw you run. Or I think she did.

"Do the right thing, Alex. Do the right thing." I chant to myself. I see her frown, but only for a moment as she moves into him, letting his arm reach down her back. He's wrapped around her like an octopus and she doesn't stop him and he doesn't stop himself. If I watched another man touching my wife like that I would kill him. I don't understand how she can let this man touch her knowing you're watching. Before the group catches her gaze following you, she has a numb smile on her face and she is back to her world.

That's the end of this fucking nonsense.

Maybe I'll regret this later. Maybe you'll kill me. I don't even care.

Before I can stop myself, I'm pushing myself through the crowded room and over to Alex. I pick the guys hand up off of her shoulder and spin her around.

"I need to talk to you." She looks at me like I'm wearing your underwear on my head and speaking in tongues. Emotions play across her face from anger, to fear, to confusion. I can tell she's afraid of what I might say. I growl, "Now." I grab her arm and start to pull her with me, and she actually starts to come, until tall, dark, and horny puts his hand on my chest.

I stop and look at his hand. And then I look at him.

"Jeff," she says to him, "he's okay."

"Who the hell are you?" he asks me. I could kill this kid with one punch. I bet that'd put a smile on Liv's face.

"Her conscience, apparently," I snide at him, as I put my arm up to keep him from grabbing you back.

Alex looks at me and the fire in my eyes and grabs my arm, which is about five seconds from punching this cocksucker in the face. She pulls me off to a corner, far enough that no one could hear us.

Now I'm really pissed, both because of the asshole she chose instead of you and because she doesn't have the good sense to realize that she's making a huge mistake. "Alex, you have no idea how lucky you are, and it's going to be over my dead body that you hurt her tonight."

"Look, Elliot, this is really none of your business."

"It is my business Alex. I've seen you two together. You love each other so much. You're gentle with her, and she gives you strength. Can't you see that you're breaking her heart?"

I watch you scan the room looking for her, seeing if she's watching this confrontation.

"She left," I tell you. "She's breaking up over this. All she wants," I try to explain.

"I know what she wants," you cut in.

"That night I found out, you sat me down and you told me you loved her. And you know what? I believed you. If you don't go out there right now and find her and tell her what she means to you, I'll know you're a liar."

"I'm not..." Alex sighs.

"Alex. She loves you more than anything. In the last year, she's been happier than I've ever seen her. She'd give her life for you. And you're going to stand here and ignore her so a bunch of uptight assholes don't think badly of you?"

"Elliot, it's not that simple." You argue. "There's more to it than feelings and emotions. You know that I love her, but I can't afford to…"

"You can't afford to fuck this up, Alex. It is that simple."

"Elliot, it's." I think she can see my anger. I think she can see my jealousy. I think she can see how I would give anything in the world to switch places with her right now.

I grab for her bag, which she lets go more to shock than to willingness. I open it and see the same wallet she showed me the day you were sick. I open it and pull out the picture of the two of you laughing and show it to her. "This is what you're giving up. For him," I say, gesturing over at your date who is staring at us with angry eyes.

"Which way did she go?" she asks quietly.


	27. Chapter 27 Alex

ALEX 27

I watched as you slipped into a little black cocktail dress that I picked out for you, and you watch approvingly as I shimmy into mine. I feel your eyes on me, and I watch as you lean back on our bed, and just stare.

"What?" I ask you.

"You look fantastic." You mutter to me and I smile.

"You don't look bad yourself, Detective."

You slide into your shoes, heels that lengthen and show off your tight calves. The dress accentuates every curve in your body and makes me want to rip it right off of you.

You glance at your phone, and sigh. "El will be here any minute." You look nervously at me, and then away.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" I ask you gently, as I walk over to you and let you take me into your arms.

"It's silly." You say, and a subtle pink flushes into your cheeks.

"Tell me?" I ask, catching your eyes.

You take a deep breath. "I know, I mean, I understand why, we can't, well, I was wondering, if maybe…"

"Liv," I coo at you, and you look at me focusing your thoughts.

"Can I have the first dance?" you ask gently.

God, I love you. Under that hard core persona beats the heart of an undying romantic. "Of course," I say, as you take my hand into yours and gently lead me out of our bedroom. You flip on the stereo to something you obviously had set up in advance.

"This song makes me think of you," you say, as you pull me tight into you. I reach my hands around your neck and suddenly, I'm right back in junior high at my first dance. You hold me tight as we very slowly spin together. You pull your head back slightly to look at me. Your eyes are turning a million different shades of brown, and I can see the mixes of love and devotion, of loyalty and fidelity, of lust and admiration. You take a hand and guide my head onto your shoulder, pulling me even closer to you. I can smell the warm smell of your skin, feel your strong shoulders supporting me.

Just when I think nothing can be better, you lean back again. "Alex, baby?" you whisper.

"Hmm?" I answer, my head on your strong shoulder, my eyes closed feeling our bodies pressed tightly together.

"Can I kiss you?" You whisper.

"Mmhm," is all I can manage. You look at me for what seems like a full hour and then little by little, you start moving your head closer to mine. Our lips connect in a soft butterfly kiss. The slight touch of your lips leaves my body pounding for more. Lightening is shooting through my nerves as you slide your hand back down my back and hug me into you, moving your face away. Everywhere our bodies touch suddenly becomes electric, and I want nothing more than for you to take me right now.

My body is desperate for contact with yours and I'm desperately trying to push myself up against you. You lean back and very gently, kiss me again, but this time, I'm ready to kiss you back. I see surprise register on your face for only an instant when I trap your head and slip my tongue in your mouth. I smile at you and kiss you hard and with one hand still on your head, I let the other wander up to cup your breast and I hear you whimper.

And then we hear the knock, and Elliot, yelling, "I'm here and I'm not coming in."

"We could pretend we're not here." You whisper.

"He'll just come in to make sure we're all right." I say, kissing you again, not wanting to let you go.

"Alex," you moan at me, "God, I could make it worth your while."

"Liv," I whisper to you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the door.

You swing it open and there he is, smiling at both of us. This starts to feel like some kind of prom date. I can see the arousal clouding your eyes, and Elliot takes one look at you, and immediately turns red. I smile at you, and squeeze your hand as I let it go. Your fingers linger in the space between us, but I pretend not to notice, determined to shove you out the door before you can beg me again to change my mind or before my "date" shows up.

"Let me look at you," I say, pushing back a strand of your hair. I catch your eyes and we stare at each other for a moment, your pleading entirely non-verbal. Elliot smiles and looks away.

"I'll be out here," he mumbles as he walks out, uncomfortable with the moment. I give you a slow kiss.

"You know how much I love you," I whisper in your ear, and your head nods. "No matter what happens tonight, remember that at the end of it, I'll be in your bed."

You pull your head back and smile at me, "Promise?" You ask.

"Promise." I kiss you again, and I hear Elliot in the hallway pacing.

"Come on, Liv, you can make out on your own time." He yells inside.

"Fuck you, Elliot," we shout in a near perfect chorus. We smile at each other, and with a final peck, I watch as you pull away and walk out the door.

My date, a guy named Jeff, is someone I've known since first year law school. I'd been out with him before, nothing serious, but that had been ages ago. I forgot why I had stopped seeing him. After about ten minutes of being in that room, though, I remembered. He couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Every time I turned around, I expected to see you punch him in the face. I watched you from the corner of my eye, talking to Elliot. I try to smile at you, but you're not looking at me. Jeff looks over at you and Elliot and asks who you are. I tell him you're my best detective. The lie tastes sour in my mouth.

Jeff introduces me to a group of attorney's from his firm and they begin a long and detailed dissection of what they believe to be the most interesting case in all of US History-- something about farm subsidies and corn production in the Midwest. I find myself zoning out and trying to watch you. I can feel Jeff's hand slowly snaking its way down my back, and I'm just about to grab it and break it for him when he suggests a dance.

I smile and nod, planning to get this over with as soon as possible. Maybe we can get out of here early. I feel a headache coming on as it is. I would do anything to get back home with you and continue our private ball. He wraps me in his arms and in thirty seconds flat, his hands are on my ass. I'm trying to move him away without kneeing him in the groin when I hear the song—the one you played for me earlier. All the feelings come flooding back. The way it felt to be pushed up against you, the way you smelled, the pounding in my chest from feeling as though my heart would beat out of it. I'm lost for a second in feelings for you when I feel a strong hand on my shoulder.

"Elliot?" I gasp, thinking at first it'd be you and I would be both angry and relieved because you would have made the choice for me and I wouldn't have to worry anymore.

"Excuse Alex," he says to Jeff, "I need her over here," he says pulling my arm


	28. Chapter 28 Olivia

**Chapter 28: Olivia**

I see you walk out looking almost as dejected as I feel. I stare at you only for a moment; waiting for a second shadow to be following you. I know in my heart that I'll be disappointed; I know there isn't one. I know it will be just you. I know from the vacant look in her eyes as I blew past her.

"Hey El," I mumble, sitting on the stairs, my body pushed into my thighs, my arms holding them tight to my chest. I look up at you, and try to smile, hoping that the tears that are threatening the corners of my eyes won't spill out and embarrass both of us. It's easier for this to be no big deal.

It's just a small matter of my heart breaking. It's about me not being able to handle it anymore. About me not being able to sit back and watch you pretend you don't know me. About me refusing to pretend that we don't share our lives. We only share what doesn't embarrass you. What doesn't make you feel judged.

I don't know why I crave to hold your hands in public. I don't know why I want to stand next to you, introduced not as some cop you work with, and instead, as your partner. I don't know why it's not enough anymore to settle for you only in our private moments.

And now here he is, the man with the bad news. I feel bad knowing you probably feel like you're stuck in the middle of some epic battle between her and me. I wonder if she even saw me leave. I knew you would find me, but I thought you might bring her.

I see you walk slowly up behind me, "Hey," you say back. I see you look at me, from above. You look sad and concerned as you watch me.

I take a deep breath and look back out to the street, "She's not coming out here, is she?"

"I don't know, Liv." I don't realize it at first, but my arms are shaking from the cold. At least I tell myself that's why they're shaking. Not because of the pain in my chest. Not because of the tears in my eyes.

I smile to myself as you sit next to me, slipping off your jacket and sliding it around my shoulders. You put your arm around me and pull me into you.

"I don't understand." You say. "I thought..."

"It's not easy for me either," I mumble.

"But," you start, "I don't get what the big deal is. I mean, come on, happiness is more important, isn't it? Than what people think?"

I shrug. I don't know. How do you get it when she can't? I wish the pretending was enough.


	29. Chapter 29 Alex

**Chapter 29: Alex**

I tell Jeff that I have to leave. I tell him that there's a personal emergency that I have to attend to. I tell him the love of my life needs me, I just don't tell him who that is.

I run out of the front of the building, the direction that Elliot pointed, but by the time I get there, you're nowhere to be found. I figure you must have slipped back in, but by the time I find Munch and Fin, they tell me you and Elliot left and that you said something about a bar. I call your phone over and over, begging you to call me, telling you how sorry I am and how big of a mistake I made.

It goes right to voice mail every time. So then I call Elliot.

"She doesn't want to talk right now," is al he'll say. I beg him to tell me where you are, but he says he can't, but that you're safe, and he'll make sure you stay that way.

So I try the bars, I go to everyone I can think of that you two frequent, and over and over, you're not there and no one has seen you. It's a little after one when I get home. I'm praying for you to be here, safe. Instead, I'm met with cold darkness. You're either not here or you're already in bed. Either one is a bad sign.

I gently fumble across the living room in the darkness when I trip over your shoes. Your clothes are dropped as you took them off in a line to our bedroom.

You are here, or you were.

I sigh.

I slip into our bedroom and I can see you're awake. Just by your posture, just by the way you're lying on your back, I can tel. You never sleep on your back. Not unless we're wrapped in each other's arms, my head resting gently on your shoulder.

"Hey," I mumble. I can smell you long before I get near you, alcohol is heavy in the room. You took advantage of your tour with Elliot. I'm grateful he was with you and I know what it takes to make you get blitzed. It only underlines the depth to which I've wounded you.

You don't respond. Instead, you turn over and face the other way. You have every right to be mad at me. Hell, I'm mad at me.

Sighing, I drop the dress and slide one of your old t-shirts over my head. I walk around to the side of the bed you're facing and sit down. You flip over the other way.

I sigh. "Liv," I say quietly, "please talk to me." I reach out for you, but you slide your body away as though my touch is poison. "Liv, I'm sorry." I say, "It was a bad idea, we shouldn't have gone. Not like we did."

I reach for you again, but this time you get out of bed. "Don't," I say, reaching for you, feeling tears starting to pool in the corners of my eyes. I don't want you to move away. I want you to let me apologize.

"Don't what?" you ask, anger leaking through your words.

"Don't leave. We need to talk."

"What, Alex, what do you want to talk about?" you ask, standing, and staring at me with icy eyes.

"About tonight?" I exclaim, knowing this should all be clear to you.

"What about it?"

"I'm sorry, sorry for what happened." I say, as tears start to flow down my face.

"What though, what are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry that you were hurt."

"I'll be on the couch," is all you say, turning away from me, pulling a blanket off our bed, and grabbing a pillow.

I want to follow you. Make this better, so I scramble after you, desperate in a way that I've never felt before.

"We have to talk." I plead.

"I can't right now, I'll say something I don't mean."

"Liv, please." I say, reaching for your arm, real tears flowing freely.

You don't look at me, but you shake my hand away. "Stop crying Alex. You're getting what you wanted. Go to bed and we can talk in the morning."


	30. Chapter 30 Olivia

**Chapter 30: Olivia**

My back is killing me. This is a horrible stupid couch. I hate this couch. I mumble as I turn over and try to get comfortable. I can feel every vertebra in my back scream with disapproval. Pain shoots down my leg, and I move another inch to my left. No good. I really hate this couch. Well, at least I've hated it since I got the brilliant idea to try to sleep on it.

We've fought before, every couple does, but it's never come to this. We've always managed to somehow come to a resolution before the end of the day. Don't go to bed angry, life is full of regret and you don't know what happens tomorrow morning. I've never managed to get angry enough to actually relegate myself to a position outside the bed.

I can't believe you walked in here, pretending like nothing happened. Like you didn't choose to ignore me, even though you knew I was hurting. You were too busy pretending you lived the life you think they want you to live. I don't know who I'm angrier with, you or me.

After all, I knew what I was getting into. What did I expect you to do? Run across the room and jump into my arms? That wasn't going to happen, plain and simple. The fact I wanted it more than I wanted oxygen doesn't change that you're not capable of it. What the hell was I thinking, getting involved with a closet case? I thought I knew better, I thought I had gotten my heart broken enough times before you. I can't believe that after a year of my life, spending it with you, loving you, and supporting you, that you would turn your back on me.

I can hear your quiet sobs in the next room. I don't care. I can't care. I'm too angry and a little too drunk, and a little too numb to worry about you and your feelings. Not when mine feel so out of control.

I'm glad you're in there crying. It's what you deserve right now. I have already cried myself out and I can't feel bad anymore. My heart is too tired. My body is too tired. I hear your sniffling getting closer to my head but I'm determined not to give you the pleasure of talking this through. Not tonight.

"Liv? Please can we talk?" I hear your voice, which cuts through the quiet night like a knife. I can't see you, but I can tell by your voice that you're desperate. A sniffle fills the silence; I can feel your body getting closer to me.

"I don't want to talk," I say, with a satisfied smile as I turn my back to you again. Maybe you'll know what it's like to be rejected. Maybe you'll learn what tonight was for me.

"At least come back to bed."

"Alex, leave me alone."

"Liv, please," I feel your hand reach out for me in the night and I can feel you against the back of my neck.

I can feel your fingers, damp from wiping away your tears. I'm so angry at you; I can feel myself getting out of control. "Get the hell away from me," I yell at you, pushing your hand away from my shoulder as I quickly turn over to face you. I can feel you jump back away from me, the outline of your body apparent against the glow of the city lights coming through the window. "All I wanted from you tonight was this. I wanted you to reach out to me. And you fucking stood there, letting me watch you, letting my heart break. And now, now that you feel like that, you want me to hold you and tell you it's okay? It's not okay Alex. It's just not okay."

"Liv, it's not like that."

"What it's it like, Alex?" I demand.

"You were right. We shouldn't have gone."

"I don't just exist here, Alex. I'm a real person too. I carry you with me in my heart, everywhere I go. My love doesn't stop at the front door."

"Neither does mine," you mumble.

I laugh at you. I can hear the cruelness in the tone, the meanness. I want you to feel bad. I want you to feel worse than me. "Out there, out there, I'm nothing to you." I say, motioning to the outside.

"That's not true."

"I didn't expect you to walk up to me and French kiss me. I would have settled for a hello. But if you said hello, people might think that we were fucking. Hell, they might even think that they could catch gay germs from you. Guess you didn't hear that loving me is not a disease."

You shift uncomfortably on your feet. Your silence is deafening. "Are you done?" you ask, finally.

I laugh at you, a cruel laugh. "And you know what's really sick Alex? I let myself need you. I let my guard down. I let you in. I let you in when I was vulnerable and it killed me, and you can't admit that you care about me. So how much do you care?"

"You know I love you," you say quickly.

"I know that in here." I say, gesturing around the apartment. I see the confusion in your eyes. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"I guess not." I can hear the anger starting to rise in your voice.

Good. I want you angry. I'm ready to take you on. Let's have a fight.


	31. Chapter 31 Alex

**Chapter 31: Alex**

How dare you. You want me to scream at you; you want me to yell and cry. You want to make yourself feel good and punished so I can be the one who comes begging to you with an apology? Screw that. If you want to carry a cross, you can carry it alone. I can feel you poking at my buttons, trying to elicit a response. I hate it when you act like that. Like the petulant spoiled child that you have thriving within you; the little girl who always gets her way.

I may love you more than life, but you're being petty. Stupid. You want things even the pettiest men I've dated haven't wanted from me.

"Alex, what happens when something happens to you? No one even knows that we're together, I wouldn't be able to see you in a hospital."

"Nothing's going to happen to me." I refuse to play the great game of `what if' with you. Any number of possibilities exists in the world and I won't play into all of them.

You sigh and are ready with your response. "But what if it does? Wouldn't you want me to be with you? Do you think your mother is going to let me waltz in there and hold your hand? She still hates me because I said fuck over a year ago."

"I can't talk to you when you get like this." I say, hearing the coldness in my own voice. I'm not ready to have this fight with you. I know you were hurt, but you knew well enough that my heart was always with you."

Your eyes are still blazing at me. Fire flickers through them and I know that my lack of fire is fanning your flames. You want a fight. I know you well enough that you would much prefer that I get hysterical and scream at you.

"I think we should break up," you mumble.

"What?" You've got to be nuts. This isn't that big of a deal. It's a tiny little scuffle, barely a blip on our relationship radar. With a few more tears and some mumbled apologies we can be in bed having mind-blowing make-up sex within the hour.

"I think we should break up," you say again.

"Liv," I reach out for you. "Come on, you don't mean that."

"I really do Alex. I can't...I can't be like this."

"Liv, we've, it's been a year. We've been through so much together. Come on, we can handle this."

"I can't anymore, Alex. I just can't." I can see the tears in your eyes as you walk towards me. Gently, you kiss my cheek and give me a brave smile. "I'm going to, I'm going to go," you say, "I'll call you Monday, make arrangements to get some of my stuff or something."

I can't move as I watch you walk out the front door. You're still wearing your pajamas; you don't even stop for your clothes. I'm frozen. Frozen in place, standing here, looking at where you stood only seconds before. So this is it? This is the end?

My body feels weak as I collapse into tears.


	32. Chapter 32 Olivia

**Chapter 32: Olivia**

I'm going out tonight.

I'm going out intentionally so that you can see me. I've heard from the rumor mill that you're going to the same place every night, after court. Every night you eat the same dinner; a pattern that comes from depression and from the fact that you can't face going to our home and cooking dinner for only yourself again.

I feel bad, but only for a second. I may have walked out but you're the one who ripped my heart out, after all.

I want you to see me. See me and her, out together. I want you to see me and I want you to look at me, and I want you to see me with her, smiling and laughing, and I want you to know that the world doesn't end when it happens. That everything keeps going just the same.

I want you to feel bad. As bad as I felt, no, I want you to feel worse.

Yeah, I know what they say. Two wrongs don't make a right. Well one wrong doesn't make a right either, but at least two wrongs will make me feel better.

I never thought I'd make it through that first week, after I moved out of your apartment. I'm glad that for all those months we lived together, you insisted that I kept my place too. You didn't want anyone to know that we were for all intents and purposes living together. I guess your denial saved me some pain.

For the first week, even the thought of you in my mind was enough to bring tears to my eyes. I missed you; I missed you so much it was palpable. I could feel it, twisting in my heart when someone would mention talking to you about a case. They stopped using your name all together because of the look on my face. They call you the ADA now. Elliot came home with me every night. He practically had to feed me and put me to bed like a child. I forgot how to live without you in my world.

After two weeks, the wound started to heal. I'd hear stories about you, mostly from El, who sees you far more these days as he's always sent to be our liaison. Our interactions are buffered through him, now. He says you look pale and that you've lost weight. He says you were crying the other day, when he walked into your office to discuss the case, and that you had wiped the tears out of your eyes, and told him that you were okay. He says you had a picture of me on your desk. He says you tried to hide it, but he had seen it before.

I wish you had shown that much heart when we were together.

This new woman is simply someone who I met in an act of desperation, hanging out in a bar, she approached me. I came onto her, wanting to show you that I could rebound with the best of them. It won't be a solitary existence. I refuse to take her home, smiling and flirting is all I can take, and when I stumble in the door to my deserted apartment, I have to wash my face where she touched me. I feel dirty, like I cheated on you, cheated on us. But there is no us anymore, is there?

I convince her to meet me in your favorite hangout for a dinner not to be soon forgotten. I plan for us to be there, right after the case I know you're arguing should end. I know you well enough to know that you'll grab your coat, not bothering to pause to put it over your shoulders and find your way here, to be numb. Stare at the same empty seat and pull out a stack of legal briefs that you need to "review." I hope your work is able to keep you warm at night-I hope it comforts you like I did.

I'm setting you up, I want you to feel something. I want you to understand. I want to know you felt what I felt. I want you to see your heart breaking from across the room and know that there's nothing you can do about it. Understand what it was like for me to watch you at a distance and to feel my heart breaking in my chest.

I hear the door opening and I know it's you before I see your blonde head. You do look thinner. I can see the distraction in your eyes, the vacant expression, before they focus on me. At once, your expression changes. You almost smile, before you see her.

Shock, horror, denial, fear. I can see it all in your eyes, flash through in a few brief seconds. I lean over and smile at the girl, take her hand, and I can see you out of the corner of my eye staring at us. I lean into her, kissing her cheek. That's the final straw and I can see you run by me and into the bathroom. Suddenly, I'm plagued by the guilt of knowing that I've gotten my wish. I hurt you. I hurt you like you hurt me. It's snapping through my stomach, through my chest and into my heart. Why did this seem like such a good idea again?

My heart breaks, thinking of you alone. I look at, at, what's her name, and tell her I'll be right back. I push back from the table and follow you.


	33. Chapter 33 Alex

**Chapter 33: Alex**

Numb. Dreadfully numb.

Every day since you left, every moment that's passed, I've been wrapped in a horrible anesthetized haze. I've created a routine that allows me simply to exist without thinking; without feeling; without acknowledging that I have any more life than arguing for judges and filing motions. I get up, pull on my clothes, still wrapped from the dry cleaner so I don't have to see yours still hanging in the closet. I trudge to work and make my way through briefs, and forms, and motions forcing myself not to tear up when I see your familiar scrawl on a report.

You send Elliot to me, to ask me your questions, to run your errands. He's obviously uncomfortable and I know he must have heard your side of the story. Well of course, I remember vaguely. He came up to me; he gave me my choice. Now, I'm relegated to searching in his eyes for signs that you're okay. That maybe in his eyes I'll find your secret message to me. He's too good. He never betrays a hint of you.

I've lost my world. Every day on the way home, I stop and pick up the same dinner, comfort food that I pick at more than eat. Sitting there, in public, I'm saved for a few hours from having to crawl back to the empty apartment that is now only mine again. Our kitchen, my kitchen, is still filled with too many memories of you. The way you'd sit on the counter and talk to me while I cooked us dinner, your laugh as we joked about our co-workers, your smile as we sat together and picked off each other's plates.

The dark nights, when I'm finally forced into the solitude of the dark apartment, I sit with the files that provide me the career that I was so willing to give up my life for. It doesn't seem worth it.

I push open the same door, to the same restaurant where I get the same dinner, but something's different. I hear your laugh. At first I think it's what it's been every time I've heard your chatter; a cruel joke of my imagination. It must be a taunt from the insides of my psyche; the same one that sees your shadow on every corner and hears your voice while I lie alone in our bed crying over your loss.

I look up, in spite of myself and I see you. Not a shadow of you but you for real. I can't help but smile; you're beautiful and alive. Everything I remember about you floods through me and for only a moment I assume you are here with Elliot or one of the guys.

And then I see her.

The way you're smiling, the way she's laughing. I know what this is. You're here with someone else. You're not. You're.

I stare at you; horror written on my face. I can feel my body tighten; hear my mind slamming shut as I realize that you're not doing what I'm doing. You're not mourning my loss. You're not at home, miserable, sitting with case files, crying yourself to sleep at night. You're out with a woman. You're out in public, holding her hand, giggling over a table like a giddy child with someone else.

I think I'm going to be sick.

I can feel the bile rising in my throat. I run for the bathroom before I embarrass myself further right here and now. I pray you didn't see me. Just in time, I find myself retching over a dirty toilet, knowing I have to leave here, leave here and go out there and see you again. See you with someone else.

I can feel the tears starting to flow as I let my body slide down the wall after emptying what little was actually in my stomach. Before I know it, I'm bawling, tears streaming down my face, my body shaking. I can't believe that seeing you here; seeing you with someone else bothers me so deeply. You're mine; my soul screams, but you're not mine anymore. Not since you left me. Not since you decided that I wasn't enough for you. Every time the picture of you, walking away from me, walking out of the door and out of my life flashes through my consciousness, the crying gets worse. Harder.

I can barely breathe, knowing that there's someone else in your life. Now, I know that there's someone else sleeping next to you. Do you tell her you love her too? Do you tell her that you want to spend your life with her? Do you stay awake at night, watching over her like you used to watch me? Somewhere far away, I hear the bathroom door opening. I stay on the floor, but stop the loud sobs, trying to not entirely mortify myself.

I see feet, under the stall door. They face the mirror, and then turn around. I feel something pressing against the door. "Alex, come out, we've got to talk."


	34. Chapter 34 Olivia

**Chapter 34: Olivia**

I can hear your sobbing from outside the door, just barely loud enough to reach my ears. I shove open the door harder than I mean to, like I'm going in for a bust, and quickly look for you. I can't find you, at first, and then I catch sight of you in the mirror, pressed against the floor in a little ball. I feel my heart breaking into pieces in my chest. Why did I want to make you feel like this? I thought you'd get mad; I thought you'd confront me. I thought you'd come out for me. I didn't want to destroy you.

I wonder if you know that my heart breaks every morning when I wake up without you next to me. I slide the door open gently and get onto my knees. You look into my eyes and I can see you starting to blush as you frantically wipe tears out of your eyes.

"Hey, sweetie," I say before I realize I probably shouldn't call you that anymore. I probably shouldn't want to. You look up at me, kneeling in front of you only for a second, and then quickly look away, staring at the floor rather than into my eyes.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Yeah," you mutter, still wiping at your eyes, and pulling your jacket down. "I'm sorry," you start.

"No, I'm sorry." At least I mean that. I'm sorry for doing this. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry that you hurt me.

"I didn't expect to see you here." You mutter, in some kind of lame explanation for your tears. I see the streaks running down your cheek and I want to push them away. I want to make sure you never cry again.

Instead, I don't say anything. I did expect you.

The silence quickly becomes uncomfortable and you try stand up, which makes me slide away from you. You cross the room and look in the mirror. You're back to your professional self. You stare into the mirror. Do you see what I see? The pale face? The eyes riddled with sleeplessness? God Alex, you look like hell.

You run your fingers through your blonde hair and slide a rubber band into it, pinning it to your head, and before you can turn on your heel and walk out, I stop you. "Are we going to talk about this?"

"Talk about what?" you ask me, like you honestly have no idea what I could possibly be talking about. Like the last five minutes, or that the last year have never happened to us at all.

"About all this?"

"I'm happy for you." You say, with a forced smile.

"You're happy about what?" I ask incredulous.

"Your new…your…friend." You choke, as I see tears threatening your eyes again.

"Oh, Alex, I'm not, I'm not with her." I tell you and I can almost see your body relax a little.

"Oh really?" you ask a little too hopefully.

"Yeah."

"I miss you," you say, gently.

"I miss you too." I say, realizing not for the first time how much.

"I don't want us to end like this." You say, the tears actually falling now. I can feel warm tears streaming down my face too. You reach out your hand to mine.

"I...I can't live my life in hiding." I tell you, looking warily at your outstretched hand.

"I can't live my life without you." You say. I reach my hand out slowly and let my fingers meld with yours. You lean in and kiss me, gently on the lips. It's a kissed filled with our history; our past. It's a kiss that gives me a promise for the future. It's a kiss that fills me with hope; for us and our lives together.

"I love you, Liv." You say, leaning into me.

I love you too.


	35. Epilouge

_Epilogue_

_Elliot_

_I watch you stand in front of me, shifting from foot to foot, and I want to tell you for the fiftieth time that you need to take a deep breath and relax or you're going to pass out. You smile a weak smile but then go right back to hyperventilating. I can't say I was any different. You were with me last night, drinking beers until the early morning hours, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. My little sister who never was, I'll stand up for you one final time._

_Alex_

_Even though I haven't seen her in years, my best friend from college flies across the country to be here. My mother's downstairs and my father is arguing with one of his partners about the virtues of tort reform while directing people to the right place. If someone had told me they would be planning today, I would have never believed it. As it is, they demanded to plan it, pay for it, and to be actively involved. Who would have thought?_

_Olivia_

_It starts. I see you and the year comes flooding back through my head. I realized in that second how my life has changed, and how it will change in the future. I realize what I'm about to do, and what we're about to promise. I feel the tears start to pour down my cheeks, and I can't stop them. They're happy tears, and I try to quickly wipe them away, but I can't get them fast enough, and in a moment, you're in front of me with a happy smile giggling, wiping them for me._

_Elliot_

_It's time for me to make it official. You're no longer mine. Now you truly belong to her. I slip the small black box into your shaking hand. Carefully, I wrap your fingers around it, and wait for you to clasp it tight._

_Alex_

_You have tears streaming down your face, but I can't stop laughing. This is the happiest moment of my life. How could it be any other way?_

_Olivia_

_My fingers shake as I take the small golden band out of the box and hold it. You lift your hand and put it in mine. I swear to you my undying love, and you wink at Elliot when you promise in sickness and in health. I slide the ring gently onto your finger._

_Alex_

_And you slide the ring gently onto my finger…_

_Elliot_

_And you kiss her…_

_Alex_

_And you kiss me…_

_Olivia_

_And I kiss her…_


End file.
